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GREAT BRITAIN 

THROUGH 



AMERICAN SPECTACLES, 



, ^) 



., ,.,,>> BY 

Rev. T. DE \VITT TALMAGE 



TO WHICH ARE ADDED SOME 



JaETTER^ TO yoUNQ pEOPLE, 




BY REV. T. DE WITT TALMAGE, AND OTHERS. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1886, hy Norman 
L. Munro, in the office of the Librarian of 
Congress at Washington, D, C. 




NEW YORK:><jOf;wASHJ^ 
NORMAN L. MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 

24 AND 26 VANDEWATER ST, 



^f^ 






/ 



:i- 



[COPYRIGHTED.] 

GREAT BRITAIN 

THROUGH 

AMERICAN spectacle: 



BY 
Rev. T. DE WITT TALMAGE. 



I. 

Let rae forewarn my readers in this series of articles that I look 
^.t things from a partial standpoint, and that at any moment my 
' eart may run away with my head. Whatever other kind of 
mk I use in these sketches I will not use blue. If I cannot find 
anything but blue ink I will not write at all. Rather than that, 
I would even prefer red ink, for that is the color of the morn- 
ing. I would not be offended if T am charged with writing with 
ink verdant or green, for that is a very respectable color, being 
the same as the palm-leaf, and the rushes, and some parts of the 
deep sea. T shall paint wuth the cheeriest color I can find in the 
studio. If I find a tear I will hold it up till in the light it be- 
comes a globule of melted sunshine. 

England and Scotland have already treated me so magnifi- 
cently that I am in a mood to be pleased with everything. 

Shaking hands every day with thousands of people in halls and 
churches, and at railway stations, till my right band is disabled 
and fit only for a sling, because of the stout grips, accompanied 
by emphatic " God bless you," I am swamj)ed for the work of 
harsh criticism. 

I tell you at the start, I like England, her lantlscapes, her 
cities, her government, her common people, and her aristocracy. 
I here part forever with all the cynical and saturnine. 

I do not want to live on the same street with them in heaven. 
They will always be singing out of tune, and searching for 
fractures in the amethyst, and finding fault with the country. 

Give them a world to theniseives where they can have an 
eternity of pouting, a sky full of drizzle- drozzle, an owl in each 
tree to hoot away the hours, and a kennel of snarling rat ter- 
riers to nip the robe of every angelic intruder. 

After eight days in the Gallia, that queen of Cunarders, we 



'i QBE AT BRITAIN. 

swing iuto the harbor of Queenstown. It is night, and rockets 
shot up from the stern of the ship invite the pilot- boat and the 
steamtug to come out to meet us. 

The sea has its " back up," and the pilot-boat makes a dash 
for our steamer, and misses il; anotlier dash, and misses it again. 
Then we see ihe blue and red lights of the tug-boat coming 
out as much as to say — "I will show you how to catch a 
steamer!" aims at it, but crosses in front of our prow; aims at 
it again, but falls behind our stern. 

We stand on deck io the sopping rain to watch this aquatic 
game, imtil wearied w^e retire to our room for slumber. As we 
are falling to sleep, there is a sudden charge of stout men into 
our private apartment. 

What is the matter now? 

Have the old-time pirates resuscitated their business, and are 
we to be seized and made to walk the plank ? By the dim light 
from the Hall I see the three men by mistake putting out their 
hands toward the berth in which sleeps the better half of us. 
As I look down from the upper berth I hear loud voices saying, 
"Welcome to England." By delegation London, Leeds, and 
Dublin have looked in upon us. 

I respond in my shirtsleeves, but T am eo surprised at the 
sudden incursion that the response is not worthy of the occa- 
sion, and amounts only to a sudden ejaculation of " Where did 
you come from !" 

That scene was only a forerunner of the cordiality and gener- 
osity of these people of Great Britian toward strangers. Like 
Americans they have been much lied about. They are warm- 
hearted and genial to the last degree. 

Their homes, their carriages, their hearts, are all wide open. 
We have not found what Americans call the "grouty English- 
man." His digestion is better than that of the American, and 
hence he can afford to be better natured. If a man has to 
wrestle with a lamb chop three hours after swallowing it, his 
good humor is exhausted. 

The contest in his body leaves him no strength for the battle 
with the world . Foreign wars are not so destructive as internal. 
When things sour on a man's stomach they make him sour with 
all -the world. 

Some of us need not more a "new heart" according to the 
Gospel than a "new liver " according to physiology. 

This season of all others tests an Englishman's spirits. It is 
unprecedented for rainy weather, and in some of the churches 
prayers had been offered for a cessation of moisture. We have 
been in England thirty days, and it has rained some time every 
day, but this makes us appreciate the sun better when it does 
come out. The clouds, like a veil to a beautiful face, add to the 
attractiveness by only occasionally being withdrawn. When 
the sun in- summer shines from morning till night with intense 
glare we always feel that he is rather overdoing the business. 

There is nothing more exquisite than a cloud when it is richly 
edged and irradiated. A cloudless sky is a bare wall. A sky 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES. 3 

hung with clouds in all stages of illumination is a Louvre and 
Luxembourg. Clouds are pictures drawn in water colors. 

Who knows but that Raphael and Rubens, gone up higher, 
may sometimes come out and help in the coloring of the canvas 
of the morning with brush of sunbeam, putting within sight of 
our eyes the constellated glories belonging to the other side of 
the Border. 

Now, if in the shadowed weather of this summer Englishmen 
can be so genial, I would like to know how they are in the 
usual summer brightness. It is a delusion that Englishmen de- 
light to grumble. As near as I can judge, each community ap- 
points some one to do the grumbling for it, and he becomes the 
champion grumbler. 

One pulpit will do all the grumbling for all the pulpits in the 
town; one newspaper all the grumbling for the journalists; one 
prominent citizen the grumbling for all the citizens. Such an 
one becomes the pet growler of the community. All the scan- 
dal-mongers carr}'' to him forage. They feed him with all the 
disagreeahle things of the community. His capacity for offal 
is awful. They rub him down with the ragged edge of a slander. 
Job describes this wild ass of the forest as snuffing up the east 
wind. Like others of his kind, he eats thistles. These cham- 
pion growlers of English communities do all that kind of work, 
leaving others nothing to do but to be agreeable. Delightful 
arrangement! Letus transfer it to America, and have the fault- 
finding in church and state done by committee. Take the most 
powerful " bear " out of Wall Street and let him do the croak- 
ing for all the brokers. Take some ecclesiastic, who has swal- 
lowed his religion crosswise and got it stranglingly fast in his 
wind- pipe, to hunt down all the heresy, real or fancied. Get 
some one newspaper to do all the work of mauling reputations, 
exposing domestic infelicities and reporting divorce cases. Let 
one female "gad about," gathering all the gossip, put it up in 
bottles properly labeled and peddle it about from house to house 
in small vials for those who could stand only a little, or in large 
bottles, as it may be required. Let her be known as the cham- 
pioness of tittle-tattle. So men and women, might delegate to 
one or more the disagreeables of the world. And, as at different 
times America and England have disputed with each other for 
supremacy with oar, and bat, and rifle, let the champion Amer- 
ican growler go fgrth to dispute with the champion English 
growler for the belt of the world. Let the day chosen for the 
contest be a commingling of Scotch mist and English cloudiness 
and American drizzle. 

Let them go at each other with threats and annoyances and 
recriminations. Let all fault-finders the world over stand 
round the ring watching the fate of the two nations. 

The Englishman might draw the first blood, but the Ameri- 
can will prove a full match for him at the last. The struggle 
maybe long and fearful, and the excitement surpass that of 
Creed moor shooting and Ascot and Derby races, but I think 
neither would gain the victory. 

Indeed, I would like to see them both go down together in the 



4 ^ GREAT BRITAIN 

COD test and both slain. Then would perish from the earth the 
bickerings and the suspicions, the snarlings and the backbitings 
of the world . 

Burj the two champions in the same grave, their clubs with 
them, covering them up with a bank of nettles. Read for their 
funeral service the report of the stock market just after some 
great failure. Plant at the head of it a little nightshade, and 
at the foot of it a little 7iux vomica. 

For epitaph: " Here lies complaint aud bypercriticism. Born 
in the year 1; died in the year 1885. May the resurrection 
trumpet, that blo^vs others up into the liglit, blow these mis- 
creants deeper down into oblivion." 

Speaking of championship reminds me of our American Hau- 
lan's victory at Newcastle-on-Tj^ne, by which he carries for our 
country the honor of being the world's greatest rower. I re- 
gretted tliat I could not accept the invitation to go to Manches- 
ter last week and distribute the prizes. 

I honor muscle. As the world's heart improves, the world's 
arm will grow stronger. In the millennium, what oars we will 
paddle, what crickets we will play, what wrestlers we will 
throw. 

We are told in that day there are to be " bells on the horses," 
and that means music and innocent gayety, and sleigh rides, 
and swift teams, and liveliness, and good cheer, and tintinnab- 
ulation. 

That there is betting at these athletic contests we deplore, but 
we cannot stop healthful amusements because people bet on 
them. There are men who bet on everythmg. Every time the 
log was thrown from the stern of the Gallia, there were wagers 
lost and won. 

Passengers bet about which foot in the morning the captain 
would first put out of the door of his office, the right or the left 
foot. Betting about the kind of soup we should have for 
dinner. Betting about the hour of our arrival at Queenstown. 
But all this betting is no reason why w^e should not take steam- 
ers across the Atlantic. 

For the cause of civilization, we will capture the world's 
oars, and bats, and chess-boards, and rifles. We want sanctified 
brawn. When the animals passed Adam in Eden to get their 
names, they did not dare even to growl at that first athlete. 

Had he been like unto a modern specimen of weak delicacy, 
instead of his naming them, they might have swallowed him 
up, giving him their own name of lion or bear. 

We want more Sampsons; not to carry off gates, but to hang 
new ones; not to set foxes' tails on fire, but to put the torch to 
the world's shams; not tapull down pillars, but to build temples 
of righteousness; not to slay Philistines with the jaw bone of an 
ass, but to kill the ass of the world's stupidity and inanition. 

Whiie the schools go on to build the head of the coming man, 
and the Church goes on to build his heart, let our out-door rec- 
reations go on to build his body. 

If that be the coming man, the sooner he comes the better. 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES, 



U. 

We all know something of how England looks on the upper 
side, but we always had a desire to get under it and look up. So 
we accepted an invitation to plunge into one of her coal mines, 
near Sheffield. With the ladies of our party we are at the top 
of the Nunnery Colliery. We have no pleasant anticipations 
of the descent into the great depths of the earth. We put on 
cap? and overcoats as protection from the blackness of the coal. 
Each one is armed with a small lantern. After taking a long 
breath, in case we should not very soon get another opportunity, 
we step into what might be called a I'ough elevator, but which 
is called " a cage." We stand in the center and throw our arms 
over a bar and hold fast. The sides of the cage are not tightly 
inclosed, and the only door at the entrance on either side is the 
body of the guide, who stands there to keep the passengers in 
their place in case of panic. 

We are to drop six hundred and sixty feet. About the ca- 
pacity of the machinery to drop us we have no doubt, but the 
question is about the sudden halt at the bottom of the mine. . 

With steam-power we are lowered, only one rope of steel at 
the top of the cage deciding whether the three of my party 
and our two guides shall stop at the foot of the shaft or go on 
to a landing place in the next world. 

" All right?"' asked the man standing on the outside of the 
cage, with upward irflection of voice. 

" All right," answered one of the guides, with downward in- 
flection. We had suggested to an attendant that we were in no 
hurry to get to the bottom, and that there were several trains 
of cars that could take us in time to our next engagement, and 
therefore we might as well be dropped a little more deliberately 
than usual. 

But all that had no effect. The signal given, down we 
went. We had the sensation of being parted about the waist- 
band. We had fallen from hay-mows in boyhood and from 
apple-trees, and had been swung higher than we wanted to 
swing, but this was a compression of all those disagreeable 
feelings into one wrench of the ribs from the hip-bone. We 
were told it was only a minute, but it must have been a minute 
stretched six I undred and sixty feet long. 

Arriving at the bottom we stepped into an arched room and 
stopped a fe^ rninutesto get our eyes and lungs used to the dark- 
ness and tLe atmosphere. Then one guide ahead and one guide 
behind, and by the dim light of our lanterns we started through 
the long black corridors. Past us rushed trains of cars laden 
with coal. Further and further we went into the darkness that 
seemed the more appalling as it parted for a little at the touch 
of our lights. Beams of wood keep up the roofs of coal, while the 
Bides Jook as if any moment large masses might roll down. 

This mine, after being worked twelve years, shows no signs of 
exhaustion. Seven hundred men are still plunging their crow- 
bars and pick-axes. 



6 GREAT BRITAIN 

This is what does so much to make England great. This is a 
chilly world, and all nations must have coal. The Duke of Nor- 
folk owns these mines, but all England feels the advantage of 
this indescribable weather hidden in the cellars of the earth. 

Talking with the miners, they all seem cheerful and unharmed 
by the eternal shadows in which so much of their lives are 
spent. They pass eight hours in the mine, and then have six- 
teen hours out. 

A stout, tall miner by the name of Henry Walters told us that 
he had been working in the mines forty- five years. There are 
few men toiling above ground who look as healthy as this man, 
for near half a century toiling under ground. 

But it is a hard life anyhow you make it. Standing down 
here amid the foundations of the earth, the memories of colliery 
accidents at Blantyre, and Risca, and Hartley, come shuddering 
and groaning through the wilderness of underground night. It 
will take the stoutest and most resounding blast of archangeiic 
trumpet to fetch up the bodies of the miners from such entomb- 
ment. 

For four shillings a day, which of us would like this banish- 
ment from the sunshine? A sepulcher is not inviting, whether 
built out of coal or limestone. Sitting and walking all day long 
in the light that bathes the streets and fields, or streams through 
our windows, do we realize sympathetically how many thou- 
sands of men spend their lives in the midnight, hewing more 
midnight from the sides of the caverns? 

But how suggestive that out of these chunks of darkness that 
tumble to the miners' feet we secure warmth and light for our 
homes, and momentum for our steamships. The brightest light 
of this world we chip out of its darkness. Out of our own trials 
we get warmth of sympathy for others. Our past troubles are 
the black fuel which we heave into the furnace of future enter- 
prises. As the miners cut the wealth of England out of the 
caverns, so we may hew out of the midnight caverns of mis- 
fortune the brightest treasures of character and usefulness. 

But we must say good-bye to these underground workers. 
We get into the " cage," and prepare for ascent. The guides 
warn us that as we near the top, and the speed of the " cage " is 
slackened, the sensation will be somewhat distressing. 

Sure enough! We get aboard, throw our arms over the iron 
bar with a stout hug; the signal of *' all ready" being given, 
we fly upward. Coming near the top, at the slackening speed, 
it seems as if the rope must have broken, and that we are drop- 
ping to the bottom of tlie mine. A few slight "ohs," and the 
delusion passes, and we are in the sunlight. Bless God for this 
heavenly mixture! There is nothing like it. No artifice can 
successfully imitate it. 

You need to spend a few hours deep down in an English mine 
to appreciate it. 

In the contrast it seems more mellow, more golden, more 
entrancing. You take off your hat and bathe in it. You feel 
that the world needs more of it Sunshine for the body. Sun- 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES. 7 

sbiue for the mind. Smiishiiie for tlie soul. Sunshine of earth. 
Sunshine of heaven. 

In the words of the old philosopher, " Stand out of my sun- 
shine 1" Look here! What do we want any more of these 
miners' lamps? They might a? well be extinguished. Their 
faint flicker is absurd in the face of the noon- day. They were 
useful to show us where to tread among the seams of coal. They 
were good to light up the genial faces of the miners while we 
talked to them about their wages and their families. 

Lamps are valuable in a mine. But blow them out, now that 
we stand under the chandelier which at twelve o'clock, at noon, 
hang? pendent from the frescoed dome of these blue English 
heavens. So all the tallow dips of earthly joy will be sub- 
merged when the old belfry of the next world strikes twelve 
for celestial noon. Departure from this world for the good 
will be only getting out of the hard- working mine of earthly 
fatigues into the everlasting radiance of Edenic mid-summer. 
Come now! Stop moralizing and drop that lantern of the col- 
lieries. 

III. 

We will take off our hats in the presence of this old ruin of 
Kirkstall Abbey near Leeds, But what is the use of these Kirk- 
stalls and Melroses and this everlasting round of abbeys and 
monasteries and ruined churches ? Why are they of any more 
importance than any other heap of stones or bricks? Yoke the 
ox-team and plow them under. Take iconoclastic hammer, and 
say dust to dust. Graze the sheep and cattle among the dis- 
honored fragments or among tlie demolished abbey at Meaux. 
Caricature Walter Scott's paroxysm of admiration for moon- 
light on crumbling arch. 

No! no! there is nothing that impresses us like these old ruined 
abbeys, and many of the occupied churches of to-day are not of 
so much use. What a perpetual and tremendous attestation of 
the better aspirations of the human race! They consider no 
arch too lofty, no tracery too exquisite, no architecture too pon- 
derous, or airy, or elaborate, or expensive, to express the mean- 
ing of the soul. In letters of eternal granite they wrote it, and 
in windows of undying masterpiece they pictured their longing 
for God and Heaven. 

As we sit down at Kirkstall among the fragments of this 
ecclesiastical wreck, floated to us from the past centuries, we 
are overpowered with historical reminiscence, and the abbots 
of seven and eight hundred years ago come and sit down be- 
side us. The summer air breathing through the deserted 
sacrisiy, and interlaced scrolls, and silent nave and choir, and 
clustered piers makes us dreamy, and perhaps we see more than 
we could see if wide awake. 

The columns bearing the wounds of centuries, as we look at 
them, heal into the health of their original proportion. By su- 
pernatural pulley the stones rise to their old places. The water 
of baptism sparkles again in the restored font. The color of 



B GREAT BRITAII^ 

the sunlight changing, I look up and see the pictured glass of 
the thirteenth century. Feeling something cool under my foot, 
lo, it is the ornamented tile restored from ages vanished. 

I hear a shuffling, and all the aisles are full of the feet of the 
living of six hundred years ago, in one style of apparel, and the 
living of eight hundred years ago, and the living of five hun- 
dred years ago. And I hear a rumbling of voices, and lo, the 
monks of all the past are reciting their -service. Here are 
Leonard Windress, and "William Lufton, and John Shaw, and 
Eicbard Batson. And this is Archbishop Cranmer, come more 
to look after his property than to join in the religious cere- 
monies. And those two persons in the south transept are Queen 
Elizabeth and Peter Asheton, gentleman, to whom she is making 
over the Abbey. See these pale and nervous souls kneeling in 
the penitential cell crying over sins committed eight hundred 
years ago. On the buttress of that tower the two letters " W " 
and *'M" seem to call back William Marshall, the old abbot 
who ordered the inscription, and while we are talking with him 
and deprecate the folly of a man inscribing his own name on a 
temple reared to the Almighty, a chime of bells, probably hung-, 
there in the fifteenth century, but long ago lost, yet re-hung to- 
day by invisible hands, ring out first a " Wedding March " for 
all the marriages solemnized in that consecrated pla-ce, and then 
strike a dirge for all its burials; and, last of all, rousing them- 
selves to sound the jubilee of all nations, calling to York 
Minster and St. Paul, and Salisbury, and all the dead abbeys 
of the past, and all the living cathedrals of the present, to cele- 
brate the Millennium of the world's deliverance, and all the 
chapels, and sacristies, and choristers, and penitential cells re- 
spond Amen! Amen! And then a shaft of light broke through 
the arched window horizontally, and a shaft of light dropped 
perpendicularly, and cro*ssed each other, but I noticed that the 
perpendicular shaft was longer tha^n the horizontal shaft, and 
lo! and behold! J. saw that the old Monastery of Kirkstall was 
in attitude of worship crossing itself. 

My guide-book at this point dropped from my hand and woke 
me, and I found a young artist on a ladder copying the sculpt- 
ured adornments over the west doorway. 

" What!" I said to myself, " must the nineteenth century 
copy the twelfth ?" 

Even so. The highest and most enterprising art of our day 
cannot crowd past the windows and doors of eight hundred 
years ago. The ages move in a circle, and it may take the 
world two thousand years before it can again do the ribbons 
and skeins of granite in York Minster or Kirkstall Monastery. 
While that artist hangs to the ladder, taking on his sketch-book 
the tracery of the doorway, he makes us think of the artist 
murderer who used to stand in that very place doing the same 
things — sketching the doorway and stealing the heart of a 
maiden. He was more desperado than artist. 

By night, with a gang of outlaws, he playetl the highway- 
man. A citizen with a large sum of money, passing near the 
abbey, was robbed and murdered. Mary Clarkson, the maiden. 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES. 9 

was in the abbey one night, having wandered there with 
troubled mind. While there she saw a group of men carrying a 
corpse, which they came and buried in one part of the ruined 
abbey. The hat of one of them blew off and rolled to Mary 
Clarkson's feet, where she sut unobserved. It was found the 
next day to be the hat of her lover, whom she had as yet not 
suspected of evil. 

William Bedford vi^as approaching the town to claim his bride; 
but tlie true character of the villain having been discovered the 
constables seized him, and Mary Clarkson, urged by her own 
sense of what was right, appeared to testify against him. 

The story of the corpse carried to Kirkstall Abbey, and the 
identification by Mary of the hat, brought to the gallows the 
artist desperado. So, under one ancient, crumbling, transcend- 
ent doorway, meet devotion and crime, sin and virtue, the 
heavenly and the diabolical. 



IV. 

Seven o'clock in the morning, at a window looking out upon 
the River Tay, which is the Rhine of Scotland. V/hen the 
Romans, many centuries ago, first caught sight of it they ex- 
claimed: '* Ecce Tiber P' Within sight of scenery which Wal- 
ter Scott made immortal in his "Fair Maid of Perth." The 
heather running up the hills to join the morning cloud of the 
same color, so that you can hardly tell which is heather, and 
which is cloud, beauty terrestrial and celestial, intertwined, in- 
terlocked, ioterspun, intermarried. The incense of a gentle- 
man's garden burning toward heaven in the fires of the fresh 
risen sun. Ivy on the old walls; rockeries dashed vi^ith water- 
fall, and fringed with ferns; hawthorn hedges which halt the 
eye only long enough to admire before it leaps over. At the 
end of each path a stately yew, trimmed up to the point like a 
spear, standing sentinel. The kennels under the wall yawning 
with terriers and fox-hounds. 

" Two dogs of black St. Hubert's breed, 
Unmatched for courage, breath and speed." 

The glades, the farmsteads, the copses, the soft plush of the 
grass, which has reveled in two months of uninterrupted moist- 
ure. Seated in an arm-chair that an ancient king might in vain 
have wished for, writing on a table that fairly writhes with 
serpents and dragons and gorgons done in mahogany. What a 
time and place to take pen and paper for communication with 
my American readers! 

Before I forget it I must tell you how I baptized a Scotch 
baby down in the center of England. It was about ten o'clock 
at night, at the close of a lecture, and in the private parlor of a 
hotel that a rap was beard at the door. Word came in that a 
young man was there desiring me to officiate at a baptism. We 
thought that there must be some mistake about it, and so de- 
layed making our appearance. 

About five minutes before the starting of the rail train we 
came to the door of the private parlor and confronted a young 



10 GREAT BRITAIN 

man in a high state of excitement. He said that he had come 
all the way from Scotland to have us baptize his child. We 
told him the thing was impossible for the train would go in five 
minutes. But this only made the man more intense. So we 
said *' Where is the baby ? We have no time to wait." The 
young man rushed down stairs, and returned with the mother 
and child. As she unrolled the boy from her plaid tliere came 
to sight the prophecy of a genuine Roderick Dhu. We wanted 
an hour to baptize a boy like that. 

Scotch all over! What cheek bones and what a fist. Give 
him plenty of porridge and the air of Loch Vennachar, and 
what a. man he will make — Chief of Clan Alpine! I asked the 
mother what she was going to call him, and she said "Doug- 
lass!" What a name! Suggestive of victory, defeat, warrior 
blades, and gates of Stirling Castle! 

" Ere Douglasses to ruin driven 
Were exiled from their native Heaven!" 

But it was no time to indulge in Scottish reminiscences. If 
that infant Highlander was to be baptized by us it must be within 
the next sixty seconds. We had the father and the mother, 
and the baby and the minister, but no water! 

We hastily scanned all the vases and cups in the room. There 
was no liquid in all the place save the cocoa left over from our 
evening repast. That would not do. We have known people 
so stupid and dull and bilious all their lives you might imagine 
they had been baptized in cocoa. But we would have no part in 
such a ceremony. 

" Get some water in a second!" we demanded. From the next 
room the anxious father returned in a moment, bringing a glass 
of it, clear, bright water, fit to christen a Douglass, opaline as 
though just dipped by Rob Roy from Loch Katrine. " Doug- 
lass!" we called him as the water flashed upon the lad's forehead 
quick and bright as the gleam of Fitz-James' blade at Inver- 
lochy. We had no time for making out a formal certificate, but 
only the words, " Baptism, July 2lst," the name of Douglass, and 
our own. 

As we darted for the cars, the young man submerged us with 
thanks, and put in our hands as a baptismal gift, the " Life of 
Robert McCheyne," the glorious Scotchman who preached him- 
self to death at thirty years of age, but whose brave and godly 
words are still resounding clear as a pibroch among the Scotch 
hills. 

As we had but little time to pray at the baptism we now 
ejaculate the wish that the subject unrolled that night from the 
smihng Scotch mother's plaid may have the courage of a John 
Knox, the romance of a Walter Scott, the naturalness of the 
Ettrick Shepherd, the self-sacrifice of a Hugh McKail, the 
physical strength of a Christopher North, and the goodness of a 
Robert McCheyne. In other words, may he be the quintessence 
of all great Scotchmen. 

There is something about the Scotch character, whether I 
meet it in New York, or London, or Perth, that thrills me 
through and through. Perhaps it may be because I have such 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES, 11 

a strong tide of Scotch blood in ray own arteries. Next to my 
own beloved country give me Scotland for residence and grave. 

The people are in such downright earnest. There is such a 
roar in their mirth, like a tempest in " The Trossacks." 

Take a Glasgow audience and a speaker must have his feet 
well-planted on the platform or he will be overmastered by the 
sympathy of the populace. 

' They are not ashamed to cry, with their broad palms wiping 
away the tears, and they make no attempt at suppression of glee. 
They do not simper, or snicker, or chuckle. Throw a joke into 
a Scotchman's ear and it rolls down to the center of his diaphragm 
and then spreads out both ways, toward foot and brow, until the 
emotion becomes volcanic, and from the longest hair on the 
crown of the head to the tip end of the nail on the big toe there 
is paroxysm of cachinnation. 

No half and half about the Scotch character. What he hates, 
he hates; what he hkes, he likes. And he lets you know it right 
away. He goes in for Lord Beaconsfield or William E. Glad- 
stone, and is altogether Liberal or Tory. His politics decided, 
his religion decided; get hini right, and he is magnificently right; 
get him v^^rong, and he is awfully wrong. 

A Scotchman seldom changes. By the time he has fairly 
landed on his feet in this world he has made up his mind, and 
he keeps it made up. If he dislikes a fiddle in church }'0U can- 
not smuggle it in under the name of a bass viol. 

We like pennstence. Life is so short that a man cannot af- 
ford very often to change his mind. If the Israelites in the 
wilderness had had a few Scotcii leaders, instead of wandering 
about for forty years, they would, in three wrecks, have got to 
the promised land, or somewhere else just as decided. 

But national characteristics are gradually giving way. The 
Tweed is drying up. The Atlantic Ocean under steam pressure 
is becoming a Fulton Ferry. 

When I asked John Bright the other day if he was ever com- 
ing to Amedca, he said: 

"No; America comes to me!" 

Besides that, American breadstuffs and American meat must 
have its effect on European character. 

All careful observers know that what men eat mightily affects 
their character. The missonary among the Indians, compelled 
to live on animal food, gets some of the nature of the aborigines, 
v/hether he will or not. 

Tht3 Anchor Line of steamers coming to Glasgow bring great 
cargoes of American meat to Scotland. The meat of animals 
butchered in America is kept on steamers in a cool draught 
especially arranged for that purpose, and the meat market of 
Scotland is being revolutionized. 

The Scotchman eating American beef and American, mutton 
and American venison becomes partially American. 

Englishmen on platforms and in the newspapers deplore the 
coming in of so much American breadstuffs. Because of the 
failure of English crops for two or three years this is becoming 
more and more so. 



13 GREAT BRITAIN 

The Englishman eating American wheat and American rye 
and American corn must become in part Americanized. And 
here is an element of safety which political economists would 
do well to recognize. 

The cereals and the meats of one nation becoming the food of 
other nations, it prophesies assimilation and brotherhood. 

It will be very difficult for American beef to fight American 
beef, and American mutton to fight American mutton, and 
American corn to fight American corn, though it may be found 
on the opposite side of the Atlantic. 

The world is gradually sitting down at one table, and the 
bread will be made of Michigan wheat, and it will be cut with 
Sheffield knives. The rice will be brought from Carolina 
swamps, and cooked with Newcastle coal, and set on the table 
in Burslem pottery, while the air comes through the window 
upholstered with Nottingham lace. And Italy will provide the 
raisins, and Brazil the nuts, and all nations add their part to the 
universal festivity. What a time of accord when all the world 
breakfasts and dines and sups together. 

What is that neighing of horses, and bleating of sheep, and 
barking of dogs now coming to my ears? It is the Highland 
Show. The best animals of Scotland are in convention a little 
distance away. Earls and marquises yesterday judged between 
them. 

Better keep your American cattle, and horses, and sheep, and 
dogs at home, "unless you want them cast into the shade. What 
a spectacle! I suppose these are the kind of cattle and horses 
that made up the chief stock in Paradise, before they had been 
abused of the wicked centuries. 

Examine those which have won distinction and a ribbon. 
Rear Admiral, Knickerbocker, Prince Alfred and Harold, from 
Berwick-on-Tweed, among tlie shorthorns. Liddesdale and 
Lord Walter among the Galloways; The Monarch among the 
polled Angus cattle; Morning Star, King Carthus and Scottish 
Chief among the Ayrsbires. This is the poetry of beef; the 
*' Iliad," the " Odyssey," the "Paradise Regained" of cattledom. 

Pass on to the horses, and see Conqueror and Luck's All, and 
Star of the West. 

St. John saw in vision white horses, and bay horses, and black 
horses, and one might think that some of these in the Highland 
Show had broken out of the pasture-fields of heaven. One of 
these might well have stood for Job's photograph, " his neck 
clothed with thunder." What hunters and roadsters! 

Pass on to the sheep and see the wonderful specimens of 
Cheviots and Dinmonts, some of them so covered with wealthy 
fleece they can hardly see out, nature having " pulled the wool 
over their eyes." 

Pass on and stir up these fowls, and hear them crow and 
cackle and cluck. Turkey gobblers, with unbounded resources 
of strut, and ducks, of unlimited quack, and bantams, full of 
small fight, and Cochin-Chinas, and Brahmapootras, and Ham- 
burgs, and Dorkings, suggesting the grand possibilities of the 
world's farm yard. 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES, 13 

And dogs! I cannot stop to describe the bewitching beauty 
oi the English and Gordon setters, and Dalmatians and retriev- 
ers, and pointers, and Scotch terrieis, Skye and rat, and that 
beautiful joke of a dog — the English pug — which I can never 
see without bursting into laughter, and the collies now becom- 
ing the fashionable dogs of Europe, their heads patted by lords 
and ladies. How I would like to bring to America a whole ken- 
nel of them. St. John, in Revelations, put the dogs on the out- 
side of the gate of heaven, saying: " Without are dogs!" 

If he could have seen these of the Highland Show he would 
have invited them in. I think they might at least lie dowa 
under the king's table. 



V. 

We have sailed on the Rhine, the Thames, the Hudson, the 
St. John, but cut out of all the other days of our life for en- 
trancement is this day when on the steamer Star o' Govvrie, we 
sail the Tay. Somewhat may depend on our especial mood. We 
went on board the Scotch river at Dundee. 

We had passed the night and previous day in one of tho?e 
castles of beauty, a Scotch gentleman's home, a place that led 
us to ask the owner, as we stood in the doorway: 

" Do you suppose heaven will be much brighter than this ?" 

He said, " Yes! for there will be no sorrow there." 

Then we thought can it be possible that sorrow ever looked 
out of these windows commanding such landscape, or ever set 
foot amid these royal fiower-beds, or rode up this kingly car- 
riage-way ? 

We had visited the church of Robert Murray McCheyne, stood 
in his pulpit, hoping to get some of his inspiration, halted by 
h.is grave, and thought how from that comparatively small 
church (theie are twenty larger churches in New York and 
Brooklyn) there has gone out a celestial spell upon all Christen- 
dom. I said to some of those who knew him well: 

" Was he really as good as the books .'say he was ?" 

The unanimous answer was " Yes, yes." His was goodness 
set to music, and twined into rhythm. 

The goodness of some people is rough and spiked, and we wish 
they were less good and more genial. But McCheyne grew 
pleasant in proportion as he grew holy. And there are his 
old church and his unpretentious grave a charm for the cent- 
uries. 

We had also passed under the gate on which Wishart stood 
and preached to the people outside the wall during the plague, 
and from the text, "He sent his word and healed them;" an 
assassin with dag§;er drawn waiting to stab him when he came 
down, the murderous intention defeated by Wishart's putting 
his hand on his shoulder affectionately; and when the excited 
populace rushed on to destroy the assassin, were hindered by 
Wishart's defense of the desperado, as the clergyman said, " He 
who slays this man will first have to slay me." 

We have been at the table with and heard the post-prandiai 



14, GREAT BRITAIN 

•talk of Dundee's clergymen, bankers, and literati. We ha'/e 
been in the parlors with the beautiful women of Scotland— the 
liigh color of the cheek, the purity of their complexion, the 
elegance of their manners, the brilliancy of their repartee, and 
the religious fervor of their conversation making up an at- 
tractiveness peculiar to their nationality. There are no brighter 
homes on earth than in Scotland. 

In the mood which all these scenes had induced we stepped 
on board the Star o' Gowrie for a sail on the Tay. Whether we 
did not pay it sufficient deference by tipping our hat to it as we 
started, or what was the reason, we will not guess; but the 
wind lifted our hat for us, and away it went into the Tay, never 
to be recovered, and would have left us in an awkward plight, 
for people only laugh at a man who has lost his hat, but we hap- 
pened to have a surplus, and so were immediately refitted. 

We passed under the Tay Bridge, the longest bridge across a 
tidal river in the world; but the whole heaven that day was an 
arch bridge, but tressed with broken storm-cloud, mighty 
enough to let all tha armies of Heaven cross over, and indeed it 
seemed as if they were crossing — plumes of cloud, and wheels 
of cloud, and horses of cloud, troop after troop, battalion after 
battalion. 

There are some days when the heavens seem to turn out oa 
parade. Bwt there is no danger that this suspension-bridge from 
horizon to horizon will break, for if here and there a crystal 
should shiver under celestial foot, the cavalcades are winged, 
and the fracture of sapphire would be repaired by one stroke 
of the trowel of sunshine. 

The banks of the Tay seem laved with a supernatural richness. 
The verdure and foliage seem to have dripped off heights 
celestial. The hills on either side run down to pay obeisance to 
the queenly river, and then run up to the sky to report they 
have done so. Abbeys and castles stand on either shore, telling 
of the devotions and the courage of dead centuries. If you had 
time to stop and mount one of the casements of Elcho Castle, 
that old ruin on the south bank of the Tay, and should call the 
roll of the heroes departed, Bruce and Wallace, and Thomas de 
Longueville, calling loud enough, you might in the echoes hear 
the neighing of the war chargers, the clash of claymores, and 
the battle cry of Clan Chattan responded to by Clan Inhele, and 
all the other clans. 

" Bold and true 
In bonnet blue.'* 

On this side the Tay is the ruin of Lindore's Abbey, with its 
great stone coffins, about the contents of which generations 
have been surmising, and about which Dean Stanley remarked 
one day to a friend— that, considering the size of the coffins, 
the people occupying them must have been broad churchmen. 

And yonder is the ruin of Balnabreich Castle. A few strag- 
gling stones only tell the place which once was the retreat of 
the mighty. Near by it the battlefield of Black Ironside, and 
the Rtreana where Wallace and his thirsty men found refresh- 
ment, 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES, 15 

" Drank first himself, and said in sober mood, 

' The wine of France I ne'er thought half so good.' " 

But say some—" We bave no interest in these old castles and 
abbeys." 

That displays your own ignorance. We notice that people 
who have no interest in such places are unacquainted with his- 
tory, and no wonder to them Kenilworth Castle is of less in- 
terest than a fallen down smoke-house. Alas|for those who feel 
no thrill amid these f.cenes of decayed architecture. Such ruins 
are the places where the past ages come and sit beside us, show 
us their leathern doublet, bend their keen-tempered blade, sing 
us the old songs, and halting the centuries in their solemn 
march bid tbem turn round and for a little while march the other 
way. 

We are apt to think, while looking upon these old ruins of 
barbaric times, how much the world has advanced. Yes, but 
not in all things for the better. Is our century which drops a 
bombshell able to kill twenty men any better than the century 
with falchion thar, killed one man? Are Waterloo au<l Sedan 
with their tens of thousands of slain better than the North Inch 
at Perth, near which we are now landing in this Scotch after- 
noon, the North Inch where thirty men of one clan, and thirty 
men of another clan, picked from their nation as cliarapions, 
fought, until all were slain, or vi^ounded, or dishonored, or 
drowned in the Tay ? 

Is murder on an immense scale better than murder on a small 
scale ? Was Napoleon despoiling nations so much better than 
Robin Hood despoiling a wayfarer ? Is Sin Brobdignagian more 
admirable than Sin Liliputian? Is Springfield Armory bt^tter 
in God's sight than Balnabreich Castle? But before we get the 
questions answered our steamer touches the wharf, and we dis- 
embark with a farewell to the beautiful Tay, which seems to 
answer, as we part: 

" Men may come and men may go, 
But I go on forever, 
I go on forever, 
I go on forever." 



VII. 

We Republicans and Democrats in Ame; ica have been brought 
up on the theory that the aristocracy of England and Scotland 
live a fictitious and stilted life in aim, and meaningless. My 
own ideas on the subject have been reconstructed by my present 
visit. There are in the world tfiree kinds of aristocracy — the 
aristocracy of wealth, the aristocracy of birth, the aristocracy 
of goodness. The last will yet come to the ascendency, and men 
will be judged, not according to the number of dollars they have 
gathered, nor the fame of their ancestors. But if we must 
choose between the aristocracy of wealth and the aristocracy of 
birth, we choose the latter. We find that those who have been 
born to high position wear their honors with more ease and less 
ostentation than those v/ho come suddenly upon distinguished 
piacei 



16 GREAT BRITAIN 

The man with a stable of fifty horses and a kennel of fifty 
hounds may be as humble as the man who goes afoot and has 
no dog to follow him. 

So far as we have this summer seen the homes and habits of 
the aristocrac}^ of England, we find them plain in their manners, 
highly cultured as to their minds, and many of them intensely 
Christian in their feelings. 

There is more strut and pretention of manner in many an 
American constable, or alderman, or legislator, than you will 
find in the halls and castles of the lords and earls of England. 
One great reason for this is that a man born to great position in 
Great Britain is not afraid of losing it. He got it from his 
father, and his father from his grandfather, and after the present 
occupant is done with his estate, his child will get it and then 
his grandchild and so on perpetually. 

It is the man who has had distinguished place only two or 
three years and may lose it to- morrow, who is especially anxious 
to impress you with his exaltation. His reign is so short he 
wants to make the most of it. 

Even the men who come up from the masses in England to 
political power are more like to keep it than in America, for the 
member of the House of CommoDs may represent any part of 
England that desires to compliment his services instead of being 
compelled to contest with twenty small men in his own district, 
as in America. It makes no difference to John Bright whether 
Birmingham wants to send him to Parliament or not. 

There arp plenty of counties that do want to send him. ^Some 
of the most unpretentious men of England are the most highly 
honored. Gladstone is not afraid of losing his honors while 
with coat off he swings his ax against the forest trees at 
Ha warden, near Chester. His genteel visitors may, with gilt- 
edgedbook in hand, prefer to recline among geraniums and haw- 
thorns of this country residen(!e, but as Mr. Gladstone has so 
much during session of Parliament to do in the way of chopping 
at the present administration, and hacking and hewing at po- 
litical antagonists, during recess while at Ha warden Castle he 
keeps his hand in by cutting down trees. 

In a picnic of working people assembled on his lawn one 
summer day, Mr. Gladstone, while making a little speech, said: 

" We are very proud of our trees and are therefore getting 
anxious as the beech has already shown symptoms of decay. 
We set great store by our trees." 

" Why, then," shouted one of his rough hearers, " do you cut 
them down as you do?" 

" We cut down that we may improve. We remove rottenness 
that we may restore health by letting in air and light. As a 
good Liberal you ought to understand that.*' 

So Mr. Gladstone, though holding the strongest political pen 
in England, is easily accessible, and is not afraid of being con- 
taminated by contact with inferiors. 

A citizen of Rochdale, in reply to my question about Mr. 
Bright, said: 

'' We do oot know Mr. Bright! He is John Bright," 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES. 17 

Indeed from my delightful interview with this eloquent and 
magnetic EngUshman I could understand this familiarity with 
his name. His genial and transcendent nature looking at you 
through the blue eyes, and speaking from the fine head, now 
white as the blossoms of the almond tree, and without any re- 
serve putting himself into familiar conversations on all the 
great questions of the day, you easily see how, while the masses 
shout at his appearance on the platform, the Queen of England 
sends word that when he approaches her he may, according to 
his Quaker habits and belief, keep hiH hat on. 

This unostentation seen among those who have done their own 
climbing, is true also of those who are at the top without climb- 
ing at all. 

The Marquis of Townshend, who presided at our lecture at 
the Crystal Palace, has the simplicity of a child, and meeting 
him among other men you would not suspect either his wealth 
or his honors. 

The Earl of Shaftesbury is like a good old grandfather 
from whom it requires no art to evoke either a tear or a 
laugh. 

The family of Lord Cairns, the highest legal authority in Eng- 
land, is like any other Christian home which has high art and 
culture to adorn it. 

Among the pleasautest and most unaffected of people are 
duchesses and "right honorable" ladies. The most completely 
gospelized man we have met this summer was the Earl of Kin- 
tore. Seated at his table he said: " Do not forget our journey 
next Sabbath night." 

It was useless to tell us not to forget that Vv'hich we had so 
ardently anticipated. At six o'clock his lordship called at the 
Westminster Palace Hotel, not with carriage, for we were going 
where it was best for us to go afoot. With his servant to carry 
his coat and Bible and psalm-book we sauntered forth. 

We were out to see some of the evening and midnight chari- 
ties of London. First of all we went into the charity lodging- 
houses of London, the places where outcast men who would 
otherwise have to lodge on the banks of the Thames or under the 
arch bridges may come in and find gratuitous shelter. 

These men, as we vi^ent in, sat around in all stages of poverty 
and wretchedness. As soon as the earl entered they all knew 
him. 

With some he shook hands, which in some cases was a big 
undertaking. It is pleasant to shake hands, with the clean, 
but a trial to shake hands with the untidy. Lord Kintore did 
not stop to see whether these men had attended to proper abla- 
tion. 

They were in sin and trouble, and needed help, and thai was 
enough to invoke all his sympathies. He addressed them as 
"gentlemen " in a short religions address and promised them a 
treat " about Christmas," telling them how many pounds he 
would send; and accommodating himself to their capacity, he 
said, " it would be a regular blow out.'^ 

He told me that he had no faith in trying to do their souls 



18 GREAT BRITAIN 

good unless be sympathized practically with tbeh* physical he- 
cessities. His address was earnest, helpful and looked toward 
two worlds — this and the next. In midsummer a large fire was 
burning in the grate. Turning to those forlorn wretches, Lord 
Kintore said: " That is a splendid fire. I don't believe they have 
a hotter fire than that in Buckingham Palace." 

From this charity lodging-house, which the inmates call the 
" House of Lords," we went to one of inferior quality, which the 
inmates call the "House of Commons." There were different 
grades of squalor, different degrees of rags, different stages of 
malodor. 

From there we went to missions, and outdoor meetings, and 
benevolent rooms, where coffee and chocolate are crowding out 
ale and spirits. Ready with prayer and exhortation himself, his 
lordship expected everybody with him to be ready, and, al- 
though he had promised to do the talking himself, he had a sud- 
den and irresistible way of tumbhng others into religious ad- 
dresses; so that, at the close of this Sunday, which we had set 
apart for entire quiet, we found we had made five addresses. 

But it was one of the most refreshing and instructive days of 
all our lives. As we parted that niglit on the streets of Loiidon, 
1 felt I had been with one of the best men of the age. 

What a grand thing, when the men at the top are waiting for 
Christ's sake to stoop to those at the bottom. May this sort of 
aristocracy become universal and perpetual. 

While the Duke of Beaufort is shooting pheasants in the 
copse at Badminton, and is distinguished for South-down sheep, 
and a cabinet; set with gems that cost £50,000, and an estate of 
incalculable value, most men will have more admiration for 
such dukes and lords and noblemen as are celebrated for what 
they are doing for the betterment of the world's condition. 
Lord Congleton, missionary to Bagdad before he got his title, 
but now making himself felt as oriental scholar and religious 
teacher; Lord Cavan the stirring evangelist. Lord Radstock not 
ashamed to carry the gospel to the Russian nobility, and Lord 
Kintore who is always ready to take platform or pulpit, when 
tliere is anything good to be done, or walk through the haunts 
of destitution and crime, for temporal and spiritual rescue. 

I write this at the Deanery of Canon Wilberforce, the son of 
Bishop Wilberforce, who, by the fall of a horse in 1873, lost his 
life while riding with Lord Granville. Our host is also the 
grandson of Wilberforce, the Christian statesman and philan- 
thropist, honored for all time. 

So in England there are whole generations on the right side. 
While for pretension and hereditary eham we wish a speedy 
overthrow. 

We pray God for the welfare and continuance of a self-sacri- 
ficing, intelligent, virtuous and Christian aristocracy. 



vm. 

We have been in the land of unpronounceable names, and for 
the first time in our life seen a Welsh audience. They are the 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES. 1» 

most genial and hearty of all people. When they laugh they 
laugh, when they cry they cry, and when they cheer they cheer, 
and there is no half-way work about it. 

Their language is said to be only second in sweetness and 
rhythm, but the English tongue seems to be crowding it out. 
The melody of the Welsh vernacular we must, however, take on 
faith. We give our readers an opportunity of practicing the 
music of the names of some of the Welsh valleys, such as Llan- 
gollen, Maentwrog and Ystwyth; of some of the Welsh medic- 
inal springs, such as Llanwrtyd, Trefriw and Llandrindod; of 
some of the Welsh mouotains, such as Pencwmcerwyn and 
Aanfawddwy. ]f you are at all puzzled with the pronunciation 
of these names, you will please get one of the Welsh dictionaries, 
entitled: " Dymchweliad allor uchel y Pab." And if then you 
cannot succeed you will perhaps stop, and be as ignorant as lam 
of a language which the Welsh say has in it capacities for ten- 
derness, and nice shades of meanmg, and pathos, and thunder- 
ings of power beside which our English is insipid. 

Within a comparatively few years the English Government 
has found Wales to be her most valuable treasure house. She 
has the largest coal fields in Europe, and in vertical thickness the 
strata surpass the world. Her iron, and lead, and copper, and 
zinc, and silver, and gold, must yet command the attention of 
all nations. Her minerals, unlike those of most countries, are 
within fifteen or twenty miles of the sea, and easily transported. 

Consideriog tlie fact that the language is spoken by less than 
a million of pec pie, the literature of the Welsh is incomparable 
for extent. 

The first book was published in 1531, and consisted of twenty- 
one leaves. Four years after, another book. Eleven years 
after, another book which they strangely called "The Bible," 
containing the alphabet, an almanac, the Ten Commandments, 
the Lord's Prayer, the Apostles' Creed, and something about 
their national games. 

An astounding "Bible " that was. Eighteen years after this 
another book appeared. The slow advancement was because 
the prominent men of the English nation wanted the Welsh 
language to die out, on the supposition that these people would 
be more loyal to the throne if they all spoke the English lan- 
guage. But, afterward, the printing press of Wales got into 
full swing, and now books and periodicals by the hundreds of 
thousands of copies are printed and circulated in the Welsh 
language. But, excepting a few ballads of an immoral nature, 
corrupt literature dies as soon as it touches this region. 

Many bad English novels that blight other countries cannot 
live a month in the pure atmosphere of these mountains. The 
fact is, that the Welsh are an intensely religious people, and one 
of their foremost men declares that in all their literature there 
is not one book atheistic or infidel. 

The grandest pulpit eloquence of the centuries has sounded 
through these gorges. I asked an intelligent Welsh lady if 
there were any people living who remembered the great Welsh 
divine, Christian Evans. She replied, " Yes! I remember him 



20 GREAT BRITAIN 

—that is, I remember the excitement. I was a child in cburcb, 
and sat in a pew, and could not see him for the crowd, but the 
scene made on me an indelible impression." 

For consecrated fire, the Welsh preachers are the most effect- 
ive in the world. 

Taken all in all, there are no people in Europe that more 
favorably impress me than the Welsh. 

The namby pamby traveler, afraid of getting his shoes tar 
nished, and who loves to shake hands with the tips of the 
fingers, and desires conversation in a whisper, would be dis- 
gusted with Wales. But they who have nothing of the fastidi- 
ous in their temperaments, and who admire strength of voice, 
strength of arm, strength of purpose, and strength of character, 
will find among the Welsh illimitable entertainment. 

On my way from Wales I met with one of the most excitiog 
scenes I ever witnessed. We were in a rail train going at a ter- 
rific velocity. There are two or tliree locomotives in. England 
celebrated for speed; one tliey call the Flying Dutchman, 
another they call the Yorkshire Devil. We were flying ahead 
at about sixty miles the hour. Tliere were five of us, four gen- 
tlemen and a iady, in an English car, v»'hich is a different thing, 
as most people know, from an American car, the former hold- 
ing comfortably ocly about eight persons, four of them may 
occupy one seat, facing four on the other seat. We halted at 
the "'station," as they say in England, or at the '' depot," as we 
say in America. A gentleman came to the door and stood a 
moment, as if not knowing w^hether to come in or stay out. 
The conductor compelling him to decide immediately, he got in. 
He was finely gloved, and every way well dressed. 

Seated, he took out his knife and began the attempt of split- 
ting a slieet of paper edgewise, and at this sat intensely engaged 
for perhaps an hour. The suspicion of all in the car was aroused 
in regard to him, when suddenly he arose, and looked around 
at his fellow-passengers, and the fact v/as revealed by his eye 
and manner that he was a maniac. The lady in the car (she 
w'as traveling unaccompanied) became frenzied with fright, and 
rushed to the door as if about to jump out. Planting my fooD 
against the door, I made this death-leap impossible. A look of 
horror was on all the faces, and the question with each was, 
"What will the madman do next?" 

A madman unarmed is alarming, hut a madman with an open 
knife is terrific. In the demoniac strength that comes to such 
an one he might make sad havoc in that flying rail-train, or he 
might spring out of the door as once or twice he attempted. It 
was a question between retaining the foaming fury in our com- 
pany, or letting iiim dash his life out on the rocks. 

So it mighc be a question between his life and the life of one 
or more in the train. Our own safety said, "Let him go!" 
Our humanity said, " Keep him back from instant death!" and 
humanity triumphed. The bell-rope reaching to the locomotive 
in the English rail-trains is on the outside of the car, and near 
the roof, and difficult to reach. I gave it two or three stout 
pulls, but there was no slackening of speed. Another passenger 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES. 21 

Repeated the attempt without gettiug any recognition. We 
might as well have tried to stop a whirlwind by pulling a boy's 
kite-string. 

When an English engineer starts bis train he stops for noth- 
ing short of a collision, and the bell-rope along the outside edges 
of the car is only to make passengers feel comfortable at the 
idea that they can stop the train if they want to, and as it is 
not once in a thousand times any one i? willing to risk his arm 
and reach out of the window long enough to work the rope, the 
delusion is seldom broken. To rid ourselves of our ghostly as- 
sociate seemed impossible. 

Then there came a struggle as to who should have the 
supremacy of that car, right reason or dementia. The demoniac 
moved around the car as though it belonged to him, and all the 
rest of us were intruders. Then he dropped in convulsions 
across the lap of one of the passengers. 

At this moment, when we thought the horror had climacter- 
ated the tragedy was intensified. We plunged into the midnight 
darkness of one of those long tunnels for which English railway 
travel is celebrated. The minutes seemed hours. Can you im- 
agine a worse position than to be fastened in a railway carriage 
eight feet by six, in a tunnel of complete darkness, with a ma- 
niac? May the occurrence never be repeated I We knew not 
what moment he might dash upon us or in what way. 

We waited for the light, and v^^aited while the hair lifted upon 
the scalp, and the blood ran cold. When at last the light looked 
in through the window^s we found the afflicted man lying almost 
helpless. When the train halted he was carried out, and we 
changed carriages, for we did not want to be in the place where 
sucli a revolting scene had been enacted. 

Thank God for healthful possession of the mental faculties. 
For that great blessing how little appreciation we have. From 
cradle to grave we move on under this light, not realizing how 
easy it would be to have it snuffed out. 

God pity the insane. For all who have been wrecked on that 
barren coast, let our deepest sympathies be awakened. Nothing 
more powerfully stirred the heart of the " Man of sorrow," then 
the demoniac of Gadara, and what relief when the devil came 
out of him and the desperate patient, who had cut himself among 
the tombs, sat clothed and in his right mind. 

Until that encounter in the mail train we were in doubt as 
to whether we preferred English or American railroading, as 
each has its advantages. But since then we cast our vote in 
favor of American travel. We cannot equal the English in 
speed. Their tracks are more solidly built, and hence greater 
velocity is possible without peril. But the arrangements 
for "baggage" as we say, or "luggage" as they say, is far 
inferior. No getting of a trunk checked for five hundred 
or a thousand miles without again iiaving to look at it. Noth- 
ing to show for your baggage, and only a label put on the lid 
announcing its destination; you are almost sure to lose it unless 
at every change of cars you go out and supervise the transporta- 
tion, Beside that it is impossible to stop the train, however 



22 GREAT BRITAIN 

great the necessity. A prolonged scene like that which I have 
just now sketched in an American railway woald have been an 
impossibihty. What though occasionally a V7eak man may im- 
pose on the convenieot bell-rope and stop the train without suf- 
ficieufc cause, there ought to be a certain and immediate way of 
halting a train in case of such a wild, appalling and tremendous 
exigency. 

IX. 

It is well for every one crossing the ocean to know before- 
hand the difference between the use of certain words in England 
and America. 

The American says " depot," the Englishman says " station." 
The American says " ticket office," the Englishman says "book- 
ing office." The American says " baggage," the Englishm.an 
says " luggage." The American says " I guess," the Englishman 
says " I fancy." The American says " crackers," the English- 
man says "biscuit." The American says "checkers," the En- 
glishman says " draughts." The American says " yeast," the 
Englishman says " barm," The American calls the close of the 
meal "dessert," the Englishman calls it "sweets." The Ameri- 
can says " sexton," the Englishman says "doorkeeper." The 
American uses the word "clever" to describe geniality and 
kindness, the Englishman uses the word "clever" to describe 
sharpness and talent. 

There are many more differences, but as education advances 
and intercommunication between England and America becomes 
still more frequent, there will be only one tongue, and all words 
will mean the same on this and the other side of the Atlantic. 

I have this summer seen much of the English watering places. 
They are now in full tide, September in this respect correspond- 
ing with our August. Brighton is like Long Branch. Wey- 
mouth is like Cape May, Scarborough is like Saratoga. Isle of 
Wight is like heaven. 

Brighton being within an hour and a half of London, the 
great masses pour out to its beach, and take a dip in the sea. 
But Scarborough is the place where the high prices shut out those 
of slender purse. It combines more of natural and artificial 
beauty than any place 1 ever saw. It is built on terraces. Its 
gardens rise in galleries. Two great arms of land reach out 
into the sea, and hundreds of gay sailing craft float in. A cas- 
tle seven hundred years old straggles its ruins out to the very 
precipice. 

The air is tonic and the spectacle bewitching. Lords, and 
ladies, and gentry come here for a few weeks. The place is 
cool in summer, and warm in winter. In December, the ther- 
mometer hovers about the fifties, and the people breakfast with 
open windows, while others are skating at London. 

Of all the summer watering-places we have ever seen, in 
some respects Scarborough is the most brilliant, and is appro- 
priately called the "Queen of English Eesorts." But the prices 
are enormous, and not many could meet them. Brighton is 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES. 23 

best known to American theologians as tlie scene of the late 
Frederick Robertson's ministry. 

We attended his little church, which would hold perhaps six 
or eight hundred people, but from whose pulpit he preached 
after death to tliousands of clergymen in Europe and America, 
those strange, powerful, original and melancholy sermons. 
What a life of pain he lived, sleeping many of his nights on 
the floor with the back of his head on the bottom of a chair, be- 
cause he could sleep no other way without torture, his wife a 
still worse torment. 

Some of the English clergy have had wives celebrated in the 
wrong direction, but more of them have homes decorated and 
memorable with all conjugal affabilities. In the evening of the 
Sabbath, we worshiped in Robertson's church. We went into 
" the extramural cemetery " to see his grave. Though dead 
twenty-six years, hi« tomb bears all the mark of fresh affec- 
tion. 

On all sides vines and flowers in highest culture. Two bronze 
medallions, one by his congregation, the other by the working 
people who almost idolized him. On the one medallion his 
church have inscribed " Honored as a minister, beloved as u 
man, he awakened the holiest feelings in poor arid rich, in 
ignorant and learned; therefore is he lamented as their guide 
and comforter, by many who, in the bond of brotherhood and 
in grateful remembrance have erected this monument." On 
the other medallion the working people, whose practical friend 
he proved himself to be, preferred the inscription, " To the 
Reverend F. Robertson, M. A. In grateful remembrance of 
his sympathy and in deep sorrow for their loss the members 
of the Mechanics' Institution and the workingmen of Brighton, 
have placed this medallion on their benefactor's tomb." How 
independent of time and death an earnest man lives on. 

That is a poor life which breaks down at the cemetery. 
Many of these illustrious English preachers had insignificant- 
looking churches. We went at Bristol to see Robert Hall's 
chapel. 

The present sexton remembered the great Baptist orator and 
preacher. The church in Robert Hall's day would not hold 
more than six hundred auditors, but there he preached dis- 
courses that have rung round the world and will ring through 
the ages. 

The size of a man's shop is not of so much importance as the 
style of work he turns out. Ole Bull could play the " Hallelu- 
jah Chorus" on a corn-stalk fiddle. Blessed are all they who 
do their best whether in sphere resounding or insignificance. 

But the Isle of Wight, as already hinted, has a supernal 
beauty. If a poet, you will go there and see Tennyson's sum- 
mer residence, and find him sauntering among the copses with 
his inevitable pipe as celebrated as the cigar of the American 
general. 

If you are an invalid, you will go there to bless your lungs 
with the soft atmosphere of its valleys. If you are fond of 



24 GREAT BRITAIN 

royalty, you will either get into the queen's castle at Osborne, 
or see her equipage on its daily '* outing." 

If you are a Christian, you will go to the village which Dean 
Richmond ims made immortal. Stop at the inn called the Hare 
and Hounds, and visit the grave at the north-east of the church, 
reading on the tombstone: 

"Sacred to the Memory of 

ELIZABETH WALBRIDGE, 

The Dairyman's Daughter, 

who died May 30th, 1801, 

Aged 31 Years. 

She being dead, yet speaketh." 

Or the tomb of the schoolmaster and church-clerk, whose epi- 
taph I should think had been written by some lad who had felt 
the switch of the pedagogue, and took post mortem vengeance: 

" In yonder sacred pile his voice was wont to sound, 
And now his body rests beneath the hallowed ground. 
He taught the peasant boy to read and use the pen; 
His eafthly toils are o'er— he's cried his last AmenP'' 

Or, if you are fond of antiquities, you will go to Carisbrook 
Castle and see the room where Princess Elizabeth, her heart 
broken at the imprisonment and death of lier father, Charles I., 
was found dead with her head on the open Bible at the text— 
" Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy-laden, and I 
will give you rest." 

Or, if fond of tragedy, you will stand on the bank at San- 
down and look off upon the water where, a year or two ago, the 
Eurydice sank, with all on board, under a sudden squall. A 
gentleman described to me the scene and how the bodies looked 
as they were brought up the beach. 

Oh, hovv wonderful for all styles of interest is this Isle of 
Wight— the bays, the yachts, th(5 hills, the mansions, the 
arbors, the bridges, the 72,000 souls augmented by the tempor- 
ary population from the sweltering cities! Ventnor and Under- 
cliff and Shanklincbine and Blackgargl 

The isle, twenty-three miles long by thirteen wide, is one great 
dream of beauty. 

What trees arch it! What streams silver iti What flowers 
emboss it! What memories haunt it! 

" The sparkling streamlet, joyous bright and free, 
Leaps through the rocky chine to kiss the sea." 

Memorable among my wanderings of the summer of 1879, will 
be the day spent on the Isle of Wight. The long storm of weeks 
lifted that morning, and there were gardens above as well as 
gardens beneath, groined roof of cloud over tesselated pave- 
ments and field. Fleets sailing the sea; fleets sailing the sky. 
Boats racing in the bay, and regattas of cloud on the sky. The 
scene seemed let down out of heaven on two crimson pulleys of 
Buarise and sunset. 

If you want to mingle with the jolly masses of England, le^ 



TBROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES, 25 

loose for a holiday, go to Brighton. If you want to see the 
highest fashion of the realm, and relieve the plethora of an 
apoplectic pocketbook, go to Scarborough. But if you want to 
dream of eternal woods, and eternal waters, and eternal sun- 
shine, make your pillow somewhere on the blissful and enchant- 
ing Isle of Wight. 

X. 

Our hearts overflow with gratitude to God and the English 
people. I do not think any American ever bad so good an op- 
portunity of seeing this country as I have had. I have been 
from one end of itto the other, and seen its vast population by 
day and by night, at work and in assemblage. 

Among other places I have been to Nottingham, the city of 
lace; Birmingham, the city of metals; Manchester, the city of 
cotton manufactory; Liverpool, the city of international com- 
munication; Edinburgh, the city of universities^ Glasgow, the 
city of ship carpentry; Newcastle- on-Tyne, the city of coals; 
Sheffield, the city of sharp knives; Bristol, the city of West 
India produce; Luton, the city of straw hats; Northampton, the 
city of leather; Hull, the city of big hearts and large shipping; 
York, the city of cathedral grandeur; Henley, the city of pot- 
tery; Perth, the city of Walter Scottish memories; Dundee, the 
city of Robert McCheyne; Paisley, the city of shawls; Aber- 
deen, the city of granite; Brighton, the city of summer play; 
Rochdale, the city of John Bright; Chester, the city of antiqui- 
ties; London, the city of everything grand, glorious, indescrib- 
able — stujtendoua London! May she stand in peace and pros- 
perity till the archangel's trumpet splits open the granite of 
Westminster Abbey, and lets up all her mighty dead from the 
kings of five centuries ago to Sir Rowland HilJ, the author of 
penny postage. 

By all this journey I am impressed with the fact that EngUnd 
is over-crowded, and must have relief. America is the country 
that will yet save England. 

A cool and cautious Englishman who thoroughly understands 
his country said to me: 

"We want to send five million people to America before 
Christmas, and then five million more." 

It is not because the crops have failed this year, but because, 
by natural increase, the population have not room to live on this 
island. 

Many jyrominent people beg me to urge upon the United 
States Government to help in the transportation of this surplus 
population to the lands of the Far West of America. The move- 
ment seems to me grandly practical. Our United States Govern 
ment gives western lands for a mere nothing to those who will 
go and settle upon them. But there are millions of industrious 
Enghshmen who would gladly go and settle there if they had 
the means of transportation. An act of Congress providing for 
such trangportation to these unsettled lands, the lands to remain 
in the title of the government till the new settler should, by his 



26 GREAT BRITAIN 

own sweat, earn the property for his own home, would be the 
enrichment of America and the salvation of England. 

There are not enough ships on the Atlantic to carry the peo- 
ple who would go; and these people are not made of the idle or 
vagabond, or vicious classes, but moral, intelligent and hard- 
working when they can get anything to do. Get our western 
lands tilled, and the school-house and the church in full work, 
and the days of universal garden are here. Heaven will proba- 
bly be an English garden on an American hillside. 

But now I am going to show you something you have never 
dreamed of. 

A grave is being opened in England that overtops all other 
things in stirring interest. Not the grave of a prince or a king, 
but the grave of a whole city, the buried city of Uvicanium. 
Riding out from Shrewsbury or Wellingtonfor five miles you see 
the soil getting black, and along on the banks of the Severn you 
find the site of an ancient city built by the Romans, a city sev- 
enteen hundred years old. For many centuries it has lain under 
ground save a fragment of wall. Fifteen hundred years ago 
England was covered with these Roman towns and cities. Being 
far from the seat of government at Rome, these distant people 
broke away from the home government and formed independ- 
ent principalities, and these principalities finally became jealous 
and quarrelsome and destroyed each other. 

So this city of Uvicanium perished. Charcoal in the remains 
of the city show that it was destroyed by fire, and the skeletons 
found in the cellars, some crouching and some prostrate, show 
that the ruin was sudden and accompanied with horrible mas- 
sacre. 

This buried city is on the estate of the Duke of Cleveland, 
who is an old man and grouty and has no interest in the exhu- 
mation. The Queen and the Prince of Wales offer to contribute 
to the entire uncovering of this dead city, provided the title of 
the ground be put in a shape that will secure its permanent 
possession as a place of public interest. Although but a small 
part has been exhumed, enough has been exposed to make the 
place v»^orthy of a visit by every traveler. 

Here is the blacksmith-shop with a stone anvil where they 
mad(j plows and battle-axes. Here is the bath-room with floor 
beautifully tesselated, showing that those citizens admired 
cleanliness and art. Here is the heating apparatus by which 
the whole house was warmed seventeen hundred years ago. 

There is the masonry wonderful in the fact that the mortar 
has never since been equaled, for it is harder than the stone, 
in some places where the stone has crumbled the mortar stand- 
ing firm. 

Capitals and bases and shafts show that the second century 
was not a whit behind the nineteenth in some things. 

Here is where the form of a female was found, and there the 
skull of an old man with one hundred and thirty-two pieces of 
coin near him, and a few heads of nails and some decomposed 
wood showing that the money was in a box. 

The old man, no doubt, at the time of the taking of the city; 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES. 27 

crawled iu here to save his life and his treasure. The heads in 
the coins were those of Constantine, Valens, Julian, Theodore, 
and Tetricus. 

Here are the store-room and some specimens of burnt wheat. 
The houses had no upper stories and no staircases. In places 
you can see where the stones have been worn bj the feet of sev- 
enteen centuries ago. 

Here is a room which must have belonged to some mechanic, 
a worker in bone. Here are the skeletons of horses and oxen of 
sixteen hundred years past. 

We pick up and put in our pocket a few specimens of teeth 
that ached fourteen hundred years ago. 

Here is a receptacle in which tlie inhabitant used to sweep the 
rubbish of tlie household, liair pins, bone needles, nails, oyster 
shells, and broken pottery. 

The hair pins were made of bone, and thicken in the middle 
so as not to slip out from the coil of hair w^hich adorned the 
females. 

Out of these ruins have been taken steelyards, a strigil for 
scraping the skin in the baths, artists' palettes, a horse- shoe, and 
medicine stamps. 

It seems the inhabitants were troubled with w^eak eyes, and 
all the medicine stamps indicate treatment for that disorder. 

The name of one of the enterprising doctors of the city is thus 
preserved. Tiberius Claudius was the physician's name. But 
they are all gone, and Dr. Claudius has overtaken his pa- 
tients. There are urns containing human ashes. There is the 
grave of a soldier by the name of Caius Mannius. 

Most of the skulls of the inhabitants are, eleven out of nine- 
teen, deformed skulls, and one might suppose that it had been 
a city of deformed people, but it has been found that the press- 
ure of the ground and the action of certain acids in the vegetable 
mold changes the shape of the skull, and so the people of that 
age and that city may have been as well formed as the inhabit- 
ants of our modern cities. 

Place of interest untold! For ages the ruins were untouched. 
The ancients believed that these ruins were devil-haunted, and 
no man had the bravery to touch the spot. 

The following story about the place was told to William the 
Conqueror. Although the place was thoroughly given over to 
evil spirits, one Peverel armed himself wdth shield of gold and 
a cross of azure, and wdth fifteen knights and others went in 
and took lodging. The night came on full of thunder and 
lightning, and all fell fiat on the ground in terror. But Peverei 
implored God and the Virgin Mary to defend him from the 
devil. Then the arch fiend approached, enough fire and brim- 
stone pouring from his mouth to light up the whole region. 
Peverel signed himself with the sign of the cross, and attacked 
the champion of hell. 

When Satan saw the cross in the hand of Peverel he trembled 
and got weak, and surrendered. Then Peverel fell upon him, 
and cried : 

''Tell me, you foul creature, who you are, and what you do 



28 GREAT BRITAIN 

in this town. I conjure you in the name of God and of the 
Holy Cross!" 

So the devil was defeated and driven out of the dead city of 
Uvicanium. 

In this legend we may get intimation of how the fell spirit 
may be driven out, of our living cities. 

He makes as fearful a fight now as when in thunder and 
lightning he dropped on Peverel and his brave knights in Uvi- 
canium. 

But when Peverel lifted th-e cross his Satanic majesty got 
weak in the knees, and surrendered the city he had held so long. 
Not by sword or gun, or police club, or ecclesiastical anathema 
will the Satanic be expelled from New York, or Brooklyn, or 
London, but by the same weapon which Peverel carried. 

Lift it firmly, lift it high, lift it perpetually, the cross, the 
holy cross, the triumphant cross of the Christian religion. One 
flash of that will send consternation upon all the battalions dia- 
bolic. 

Thus may the boastful and proud cities of our time learn salu- 
tary lesson from the twilight and midnight legends of the dead 
city of the dead centuries. 

As soon as you arrive in Liverpool for sight-seeing, make in- 
quiry for the best way of getting to Uvicanium. 



XI. 

We pass over to Ireland, the country that grew Oliver Gold- 
smith, Henry Grattan, Edmund Burke, and Daniel O'Connell. 

Some of the people here remember this last giant, and how, 
as an Italian writer says, that when O'Connell applauded, or 
cursed, or wept, or laughed, all Ireland applauded, or cursed, 
or wept, or laughed with him. His manner must have been 
overwhelmingly magnetic. A gentleman who heard him de- 
scribed to me O'Connell's wonderful adaptation to the style of 
his audience. Appearing before a rough, out-door crowd one 
day, he began his address by saying: "How are you, boys? 
And how are the women who own ye?" 

There are no Irishmen now as prominent as were the great 
men above mentioned. But if the time should come that de- 
manded the service of such men, they w^ould spring up from 
tlie peat beds, and out of the pavements of Limerick and Bally- 
castle, all armed with pen, or sword, or speech, for the emer- 
gency. 

The Lord does not sharpen hie weapons till he wants to use 
them. They are all ready to be put upon the grindstone of bat- 
tle or national controversy as soon as needed. 

No oppression ; no Robert Emmet; no struggle for independ 
ence; no Patrick Henry; no Austrian outrage; no Louis Kossuth; 
no American Revolution; no Washington; no Waterloo; no 
Wellington; no Warren Hastings' despoliation; no Edmund 
Burke's nine-day speech; no Catholic emancipation; no fiery 
Daniel O'Connell. It is absurd to think that all the patriotism 
and courage of the world have died out with the heroes of the 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES. 39 

last generation . Tread on them, abuse them, maltreat them, 
drive them to the wall, and see if the Irish of 1885 will not fight 
as well as their illustrious ancestry. 

This island has for me a complete fascination. Most travelers 
writing of it give their chief time to describing its destitution; 
but they would tell a different story if they would only compare 
the Ireland of to-day with the Ireland of one hundred years 
ago. 

Ireland of to-day is a paradise compared with what it once 
displayed of drunkenness, dueling, gambling, and public vio- 
lence. Not only the students of colleges went into bloody en- 
counters, but professors. 

Hutchinson, the provost of a college, challenged and fought 
Doyle, a master in chancery, and the provost's son fought Lord 
Mouutmorris. 

Dueling clubs were established — no one allowed to be a mem- 
ber until he had killed some one, or tried to do so. At hotels 
weapons were kept for guests, in case they wanted to amuse 
themselves by killing each other. 

On one occasion while two were In duel, some one said, *'For 
God's sake, part them!" '*No," said the other, ' let them fight 
it out; one will probably be killed and the other hanged for the 
murder, and society will get rid of two pests." 

A gentleman seated at a hotel table had a covered dish passed 
to him from a gentleman at another table. The cover lifted 
from the dish revealed smoking potatoes. After awhile another 
dish was handed on; the cover lifted, it revealed a loaded pistol> 
and the dinner- hour ended in manslaughter. 

All this fondness for dueling has passed, and in Ireland those 
who save life are more admire*! than those who take it. It is 
less than a century ago when rufiianism rode dominant. If 
there were a fair daughter in a household, there was not a mo- 
ment of domestic safety. 

Companies of bandits veould attack the mansion and carry off 
the female prize, and if in accomplishing this it were necessary 
to kill the father and brother the achievement was considered 
all the more brilliant, and the courts were slow to punish. 
While there were penalties threatened against such theft of 
household treasures, the law was evaded by putting the female 
on the horse of the bandit, and he rode behind so that it might 
be said she took him instead of his taking her. 

In this way the mansions and the castles of the princely were 
dishonored, and the men foremost in such outrages were greeted 
and admired as heroes, and walked about in pretentious uniform 
—top boots and red waistcoats, lined with lace. Such men now 
would find short pilgrimage to the prisons of Ireland. 

A century ago Ireland's literature was depraved to the last 
degree of indecency. The most popular song of the day was 
descriptive of a prison scene the night previous to public hanging, 
and was entitled *' The night afore Larry was stretched." Now 
each city of Ireland has its eminent authors. Many of the 
newspapers and magazines are administrative of elevated lit- 
erary and moral taste. A Belfast or Dublin short- band writer 



30 GEE AT BRIT Am 

can take down a speech as rapidly as the stenographer of a Lon- 
don or New York paper. 

A century ago the amusements of the Irish people were cruel 
and barbarous. Bull-baiting was in high favor,the crowds look- 
ing on approvingly while the bull,fastened to a ring with a rope 
furnished by " the mayor of the ring," would be teased by the 
dogs, and they in turn bruised and tormented until sometimes 
a broken leg of the dog would have to be cut off so that, with 
the three remaining legs, it might, unimpeded, go on with the 
savagery. 

The public executions were one of the popular amusements. 
The hangman would appear in grotesque apparel, a mask on his 
face and a huge hump on his back. 

One of these hangmen, Tom Galvin by name, was particularly 
celebrated for his hanging drollery. 

Nothing affronted him so much as the pardon of a criminal 
whom he expected to liave the privilege of hanging. He would 
indignantly exclaim: 

" It is a hard thing to be taking the bread out of the mouth of 
an old man like me." 

Tom Galvin, the hangman, lived until recently, and when 
called upon by curious people would take the old rope with 
which he used to hang prisoners and put it slyly around the neck 
of the unsuspecting visitor, giving it a sudden pull that would, 
by way of joke, turn the visitor black in the face. 

All these styles of amusement have left Ireland, and crowded 
concert- halls, and costly picture galleries, and jauotiug cars 
carrying the people out into the country for " an airing," sug- 
gest that while Ireland may not be as good and happy as we 
would wish, it is far better and happier than in olden times. 

Ireland of a century ago had a character which illustrated the 
villainy of his time. "Tiger Roche," as he was called, was as 
bad as he was brave, and as mean as he was generous. Indeed 
he was a mixture of impossibilities. 

He attracted Lord Cliesterfield by his suavity, and frightened 
the mountaineers with his ferocity. 

,He was spoiled by the caresses of the great, and instead of 
availing himself of the grand opportunities opened before him 
went to work to see how much infamy he could achieve. 

He crossed to Canada and joined the Indians in their warfare 
against the white population, was charged with stealing a rifle, 
and utterly disgraced. Then he gave his life to wreaking 
vengeance on the heads of his slanderers. He returned to Ire- 
land where he was being restored to favor, when the slander of 
the stolen rifle reached the " Emerald Isle." But the thief who 
stole the rifle died, and in his dying moments confessed him- 
self the criminal. Soon "Tiger Eoche " becomes leader in the 
attempt to put down Dublin ruffianism. The law breaker be- 
comes the law executor. Then he aspires to the hand of an 
heiress with a very large income, but before the day of mar- 
riage, because of his large expenditures of money he is thrown ' 
into prison. He falls under the crushing misfortune, but rises 
again till he gets the nomination for Parliament, but he declines 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES. Bl 

the nomination. He becomes fascinated witli another heiress, 
gets her property aod spends it till she and her mother have to 
retire in penury. 

He sailed for India, but on shipboard quarreled with the cap- 
tain and so was turned in to mess with the common sailors. 
Getting on shore he watched for the captain with murderous 
intent, and the captain was found one morning dead with nine 
stabs in his left side. 

"Tiger Roche" fled to the Cape. Pursued there, he fled to 
Bombay. There he was caught, taken back to England and 
through some technicality of the law, acquitted. After all he 
died a natural death, although every day for three fourths of 
his life was a robbery of the gallows. 

We can hardly imagine such a character in Ireland to-day. 
He was applauded and imitated. But law and order are as 
thorough to-day in Ireland as in any nation under the sun. The 
Presbyterians of the north and the Catholics of the South hate 
each other with a complete hatred, but the only war is a war of 
words. 

Grievous wrongs is Ireland suffering, but her wrongs will be 
righted. Better than she was in the past, she will be far better 
in the future. An Irishman holds the highest legal position in 
England to-day o The voice of Ireland is potent in the councils 
of Great Britain. There will be revolution (I pray God not by 
sword, but by legislation). Her desolations will be furrovved 
into harvests of civilization and Christian prosperity. 

Peace upon Ireland! May her wounds be healed, and her 
hunger fed, and her vroes alleviated! 

Leaving to other articles the stories of her mountains and 
cities as they now; are, we conclude with the poet's apostrophe: 

" Great, glorious and free. 
First flower of the earth, and first gem of the sea!" 



XII. 

The Irish Channel treated us better than it treats most people. 
It lay down quietly till we got over it. In the calm, bright 
moon we landed. But your first step in Ireland reminds you of 
her sufferings. Within sight of where you land to take the cars 
for Belfast is the place where the Catholics were driven into the 
sea by their persecutors, and where nine hundred monks were 
murdered by the Danes. 

No country has ever endured more wrongs than Ireland. But 
as you roll into Belfast you are cheered by a scene of prosperity. 

Belfast is the Chicago of Ireland. This cit3^ presented by 
James I. to Sir Arthur Chichester as an " insignificant village," 
now has 213.000 inhabitants, and all sails set for further prog- 
ress. She makes enough linen to provide table -coverings and 
surplices and under-garments for all the world. 

By an expenditure of one million two hundred and fifty 
thousand dollars she has made her harbor easy of access to im- 
mense shipping. 

The thrift of the city, with the exception of occasional de 



32 GREAT BRITAIN 

pressioiis, is UDprecedented in Irelaud. The people are kind, 
hospitable, enthusiastic, and moral. Her multitude of churches 
and religious institutions has had it? evident effect on the popu- 
lation. Her monuments, banks, colleges, and bridges absorb 
the traveler's attention. 

" Spanning the Lagan now we havein view 
The great Long Bridge with arches twenty-two." 

Belfast has an array of very talented preachers. Her pulpit 
is second to no city under the sun. The churches are large and 
thronged. Her literary institutions have the ablest professor- 
ships, and the longest roll of students. If I wanted to live in 
Ireland, and had my choice, I would live in Belfast. 

Thence you will run up to Londonderry— a walled city, his- 
torical down to its last brick. You feel, as you enter the city, 
that you have passed out of this century into the seventeenth 
century, and you hear the guns of siege thundering against the 
walls. For one hundred and five days the assault lasted, till 
cats and dogs wqvq attractive food to the starving inhabitants. 
Walker, the minister of the place, proved himself a patriot, and 
harangued the people to courage and endurance. A high mon- 
ument has been raised to perpetuate his memory. Two thou- 
sand three hundred people died from the sieg:e. So that the 
glory of the city is the glory of its majestic and Christian suffer- 
ing. Ay! ay! it is always so. Nothing is won by man, or 
church, or community, or nation, but through fire. 

In the outskirts of this city was the famous agricultural 
school, and on arriving I im'mediately asked for Templemoyle. 
Thackeray describes it as the most wonderful school in all the 
world. He liked it better than Eton. He said, after writing 
" Templemoyle." thirty -seven years ago: " There are at this 
present writing five hundred boys at Eton, kicked, and licked, 
and 'bullied by another hundred, scrubbing shoes, running 
errands and making false concords, and still calling it educa^ 
tion!" 

Then he describes how superior this agricultural school was to 
all that, the doctor's bill for seventy pupils amounting to thirty- 
five shillings per year. The boys were to rise at 5:30 o'clock 
A. M., and to have for breakfast eleven ounces of oatmeal made in 
stirabout, and one pint of sweet milk. The bill of fare was 
printed at the beginning of the session, and it makes me hungry 
to think of the sparseness of it. 

When I asked about the school, one man told me it had 
**gone down," and another that it had "gone up." But all 
agreed in the fact that it had gone. I suppose that school, like 
many other institutions, had been killed by too many rules. 
Templemoyle is in private hands, and a mere matter of history. 

Walking around the ramparts of the city you can look off 
into the far past, and see the apprentice boys driving back King 
James, making themselves immortal, for the roll of their cour- 
age is handed down from age to age — William Crookshanks, 
Alexander Irving, James Stewart, Robert Morrison, John Con- 
jngham, William Cairns, Samuel Harvey, and others. A man 



THROUGH AMERICAN SPECTACLES. 33 

dies well when he dies in the defense of his home, city, or 
country. 

You take a short run by cars and reach the strangest place on 
earth — the Giant's Causeway. The rocks here are cut as by 
mathematical calculation. A man is a fool who can look at 
these rocks and not realize that the world had a design and a 
Designer. Was it nothing but chance that made them octagonal, 
hexagoDal, pentagonal ? 

There are 35,000 columns of rock more wonderful than all the 
sculptors and architects of the ages could have hewn them. 

Here are rocks called the Chimney Tops, which the Spanish 
Armada in the fog took for the towers of Dunluce Castle, and 
blazed away at, but got no answering cannonade save the echo 
of the everlasting hills. 

Here is what is called the " Giant's Organ," because the rocks 
resemble the pipes of that monarch of musical instruments. 

I would like to stand by this Giant's Organ during a thunder- 
storm and hear the elements play on it the oratorio of the crea- 
tion. 

Here also is the " Giant's Amphitheater," the benches of rock 
extending round in galleries above each other, suggesting a fit 
audience room for the gathering of the Judgment Day. 

We got into a boat and with six oarsmen rowed out on the 
sea and hence into two of the caverns where the ocean rolls with 
a grandeur indescribable. The roof of the Dunkerry Cave is 
pictured, and frescoed, and emblazoned by the hand of God, It 
is sixty feet high above high- water mark. 

As the boat surges into this cavern you look round, wonder- 
ing whether there are enough oarsmen to manage it. 

A man fires a pistol that we may hear the report as loud in 
that cavern as the heaviest crash of an August thunrierstorm. 

You swing round for a few moments in that strange temple 
and then come forth with an impression that you will carry 
forever. 

There can be no power in time or eternity to efface that 
stupendous memory. The rustic guides talk to you with the 
ease of a geologist about felspar and hornblende, and basalt, and 
trap rock. 

Before you die you must see the Giant's Causeway. You go . 
to look at a celebrated lake, but you have seen other lakes. You 
go to look at a high mountain, but you have seen other mount- 
ains. You go to see a great city, but you have seen ether 
cities. You go to see a famous tree, yet you have seen other 
trees. But there is nothing like the Giant's Causeway, It 
stands alone and aside from all geological wonders. 

The painter tries to sketch it and gives it a ten-pin alley ap- 
pearance, the ten-pins just set up. 

There is no canvas high enough, no pencil skillful enough, no 
genius mighty enough to adequately present this curiosity. 

Ireland might well have been built, if for nothing but to hold 
the Giant's Causeway. 

How do they account for this causeway? It seems that a 
Scotch giant was in quarrel with an Irish giant, and the Scotch 



34 GREAT BRITAIN 

giant told the Irishman that he would come over and give him 
a severe trouncing if it were not for getting his feet wet in the 
sea. 

The Irish giant was spoiling for a fight, and so built a road 
across to Scotland. Then the Scotchman crossed over, and the 
Irishman punished him for his impudence with a shil'iialah. As 
time went by the High Road across the sea sank, leaving only 
the present remains called the Giant's Causeway. 

But instead of this tradition, which says the road was built 
to let two belligerents cross over and meet each other in combafc, 
I think it was built for the purpose of allowing the human mind 
to cross over from earth to heaven. 

It lifts us among the sublimities. T imagine that this is the 
last pillar of the earth that will give way. After the roof of 
the world has fallen in, and the capitals of the mountains shall 
have crumbled, and the foundation of the earth has sunk, these 
gray columns shall run their grandeur across the desolation, and 
these organ pipes of basalt sound forth the dirge of a dead and 
departed world. 



I^ETTER^ TO yoUNQ IpEOPLE. 



BY KEV. T. DE WITT TALMAGE, AND OTHERS. 



THE CHOICE OF A WIFE. 

It is absurd to think that all men ought; to be married. Some 
of them are so cross-grained that an angel from heaven could 
not in their companionship be able to preserve equanimity. 
You might as well put on your clerical bands and unite in v^'^d- 
lock fire and gunpowder. The altar and the wedding party 
would be picked up in fragments some distance away. There 
are antagonisms that can never be overcome. You occasion- 
ally find a man wlio spreads himself so widely over the path of 
life that there is no room for any one to walk beside him. He 
is not the one blade of a scissors, incomplete without the other 
blade. He is a chisel, made to cut his way througli life alone; 
or a file, full of roughness, made to be drawn across society, 
without any affinity for other files. His disposition is a life- 
long protest against marriage. Others are so married to their 
occupation or profession that the taking of any other bride is a 
case of bigamy. There are men as severely tied to their literary 
work as was Chatterton, whose essay was not printed because 
of the death of the lord mayor. Chatterton made out the fol- 
lowing account: 

Lost by the lord mayor's death in this essay £1 lis Qd 

Gained in elegies ....'..,. „ £3 2s Od 

" " essays. .„„.....„ 3 3 0' 5 .5 



Am glad he is dead by .„ ,.....,..,.,..... £3 13s 6(^ 

When a man is as hopelessly literary as that, he ought to be a 
perpetual celibate. His library, his laboratory, his pictures are 
all the companionship neeiled! Indeed, some of the mightiest 
men this world ever saw have not patronized matrimony. 
Cowper, Pope, Newton, Swift, Locice, Walpole, Gibbon, Hume, 
Arbuthnot, were single. Some of these marriage would have 
helped. The right kind of a wife v^^ould have cured Cowper's 
gloom, and given to Newton more practicability, and been a relief 
to Locke's over-taxed, brain. A Christian wife might have con- 
verted Hume and Gibbon to a belief in Christianity. But Dean 
Swift, the old brute of a minister, did not deserve a wife, judg- 



36 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

ing from the way in which he broke the heart of Jane Waryng 
first, and Esther Johnson afterward, and last of all, Vanessa. 
The great wit of his day, he was outwitted by his own cruelties. 
Admitting the fact that many men ought not to be married, we 
declare that the great majority ought religiously to seek a wife. 

Tlie fact that most of the marriages are, taking all things into 
consideration, fit to be made, convinces us that they are divinely 
arranged. Almost every cradle has an affinity toward some 
other cradle. They may be on the opposite sides of the earth. 
But one child gets out of this cradle and another child gets out 
of that cradle, and with their first steps they start for each 
other. They may diverge from the straight path, going toward 
the north or south or east or west. They may fall down, but 
the two rise facing each other. They are approaching all through 
infancy. The one all through the years of boyhood is going to 
meet the one who is coming through all the years of girlhood to 
meet him. The decision of parents as to what is best concerning 
them, and the changes of fortune may for a time seem to arrest 
the two journeys. But on they go. They may never have seen 
each other. They may never have heard of each other, but the 
two pilgrimages which started at the two cradles are nearingv 
After eighteen or twenty or thirty years the two come within 
sight. At first glance they may feel a dislike, and they may 
slacken their step. Yet something that the world calls fate, or 
that religion calls Providence, urges them on and on. They 
must meet. They come near enough to join hands in social ac- 
quaintance, after awhile to join hands in friendship, after 
awhile to join hearts. The delegate from the one cradle comes 
up the east aisle of the church with her father, the delegate from 
the other cradle comes up the west aisle of the church. The two 
long journeys end at the snow-drift of the bridal veil. The two 
chains made out of many years are forged together by the gold 
link which the groom puts upon the third finger of the left hand. 
One on earth! May they be one in heaven! 

Do you call this fatality ? I have only described the general 
arrangement. There are cases where the boy gets out of the 
wrong side of the cradle, and forever he seems to have lost his 
way. Here is where the much-laughed-at idea of Martin Tup- 
per comes in. Many who twenty-five years ago thought the 
counsel of this English poet concerning prayer on the matri- 
monial subject preposterous, now think it wise. Some who 
laughed then on one side of their mouths, are now, because of 
their rejection of the good advice, laughing on the other side of 
their mouths. The worst predicament possible is to be un- 
happily yoked. You see it is impossible to break the yoke. The 
more you pull apart the more galling the yoke. The minister 
might bring you up again, and in your presence read the marriage 
ceremony backward, might put you on the opposite sides of the 
altar from where you were when you were united, might take 
the ring off the finger, might rend the wedding-veil asunder, 
might tear out the marriage-leaf from the family Bible record, 
but all that would fail to un marry you. 

It is better not to make the mistake, than to attempt its cor- 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE 37 

rection. But men and women do not reveal a)l their character- 
istics till after marriage, and how are you to avoid committing 
the fatal blunder ? 

Take Martin Tupper's direction. There is only one Being in 
the universe who can tell you whom to choose, and that is the 
Lord of Paradise. 

He made Eve for Adam, and Adam for Eve, and both for 
each other. 

Adam had not a large group of women from whom to select 
his wife, and it was fortunate, judging from some mistakes 
which he had made, that it was Eve or nothing. There is in all 
the world some one made for you as certainly as Eve was made 
for Adam. 

All sorts of mistakes occur, because Eve was made out of a 
rib from Adam's side. Nobody knows which of his twenty- 
four ribs was taken for the nucleus. If you depend entirely 
upon yourself in the selection of a wife; there are twenty-three 
chances to one that you will select the wrong rib. 

By the fate of Job whose wife coaxed him to swear; by the 
fate of Ahab whose wife induced him to steal; by the fate of 
John Wesley, whose wife was a jealous fool; by the fate of 
Macbeth, whose wife pushed him into massacre; by the fate of 
Frederick Robertson, whose wife mocked his distresses while 
writhing on the floor in spinal disease; by the fate of James 
Ferguson the philosopher, whose wife entered the room while 
he was lecturing, and willfully upset his astronomical apparatus, 
so that he turned to the audience and said, "Ladies and gentle- 
men, I have the misfortune to be married to this woman;" by 
the fate of Bulwer the novelist, whose wife's temper was so 
" incompatible," he furnished her a beautiful house near Lon- 
don and withdrew from her company, leaving her with the one 
dozen dogs whom she entertained as pets; by the fate of John 
Milton, who married a termagant, after he was blind, and 
when some one called her a rose, the poet said, " I am no 
judge of colors, and it may be so, for I feel the thorns 
daily:" by the fate of an Englishman, whose wife was so de- 
termined to dance on his grave that he was buried in the sea* 
by the fate of the village minister whom I knew whose wife 
threw a cup of hot tea across the table because they differed in 
sentiment — by all these scenes of disquietude and domestic 
calamity we implore you to be cautious and praj-erful before 
you enter upon the conimbial state which decides whether a 
man shall have two heavens or two hells, a heaven here and 
heaven fc;rever, or a hell now and a hell hereafter. By the 
bliss of Pliny whose wife, when her husband was pleading in 
court had messengers coming and going to inform her what 
impression he was making; by the joy of Grotius whose wife de- 
livered him from prison under the pretense of having books 
carried out lest they be injurious to his health, she sending out 
her husband unobserved in one of the book cases; by the good 
fortune of Roland in Louis' time, his wife translating and com- 
posing for her husband while secretary of the interior— talented, 
heroic, wonderful Madame Roland; by the happiness of many a 



38 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

man who has made intelligeat choice of one capable of being 
prime counselor and companion, ia brightness and in grief, 
pray to Almighty God morning, noon and night that at the 
right time and in the right way he will send you a good, honest, 
loving, sympathetic wife; or if she is not sent to you, that you 
may be sent to her. 

Adam's wife came to him while he was sound asleep, but the 
probability is that you will overtake yours when wide awake. 
Decide not so important a matter by the color of a bright cheek. 
As well purchase a farm for the dahlias in the door yard. 



THE CHOICE OF A HUSBAND. 

It is easier for a man to find a good wife than for a woman to 
find a good husband. This is a matter of arithmetic. There are 
very many more women than men. Statistics show that in 
Massachusetts and New York States women have a majority 
of hundreds of thousands. Why this is we leave others to sur- 
mise. 

It would seem that woman is a favorite with the Lord, and 
that therefore he has made more of that kind. 

From the order of the creation in Paradise it is evident that 
woman is an improved edition of man. But whatever be the 
reason for it, the fact is certain that she who selects a husband 
has a smaller number of people to select from than he who se- 
lects a wife. Therefore woman ought to be especially careful in 
her choice of life-time companionship. 

She cannot afford to make a mistake. If a man err in his se- 
lection he can spend his evenings at the club; and dull his sensi- 
bilities by tobacco smoke; but woman has no club-room for 
refuge, and would find it difiEicult to habituate herself to cigars. 

If a woman make a bad job of marital selection the proba- 
bility is nothing but a funeral can relieve it. Divorce cases in 
court may interest the public, but the love-letters of a married 
couple are poor reading for those who write them. 

A dog and a cat were once married. But they had lived in 
wedlock only a little while when they began to scratch and bite 
each other until all the dogs and cats of the neighborhood felt 
scandalized. 

The cat was advised by some of her friends, convened, we 
might say, on the roof of a neighboring wood- house, to sue for 
a divorce in the law courts. 

Three dogs were on the judges' bench — a Newfoundland, a 
shepherd dog, and a rat-terrier, but the Newfoundland presided. 
The case was called up. The galleries were crowded. It seemed 
tliat the family diifioulty arose about what is the chief aim of 
life; the dog thought the hunting of foxes, and the cat the 
hunting of rats. 

While the trial was going on all the dogs and cats of the com- 
munity neglected their work, and the foxes destroyed the 
chickejis, and the rats despoiled the pantries. 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 39 

A large amount of correspoDdence between the two litigants 
was produced and read. Private matters became public prop- 
erty. The daily papers had extra sale. The whole town 
laughed, and was demoralized. Bolh cat and dog were ruined 
in reputatioD. The jury, made up of six dogs and six cats who 
Lad not expressed any opinion on the subject previous to the 
trial, were charged by the great Newfoundland that if they 
found the dog guilty tbey must bring in a verdict for the cat; 
but if, on the other hand, they found the cat guilty tbey must 
bring in a verdict for the dog. 

After being in a room together, in which the jury fought like 
cats and dogs, they brought in a verdict that because of dispar- 
ity in temper and incompatibility of disposition cats and dogs 
ought never to be married. 

Our advice in the selection of a husband is never to marry a 
man with the idea of reforming him. If now, under the re- 
straint of courtship, he will not give up his bad habits, after he 
has won the prize you cannot expect him to do so. You might 
as well plant a violet in the face of a north-east storm with the 
idea of appeasing it; you might as well run a schooner along- 
side of a burning ship with the idea of saving the ship. The 
consequence will be schooner and ship will be destroyed to- 
gether. The alms-house could tell the story of a hundred 
women who married men to reform them. If by twenty-five 
years of age a man has been grappled by intoxicants he is under 
such headway that your attempt to stop him would be very 
much like running up a .track with a wheelbarrow to stop a 
Hudson River express train. 

What you call an inebriate nowadays is not a victim of wine 
or whisky, but of logwood and strychnine and nux vomica. All 
these poisons have kindled their fires in his tongue and brain, 
and all the tears of a wife's weeping cannot extinguish the 
flames. 

Instead of marrying a man to reform him, let him reform 
first, and then give him time to see whether the reform is to be 
permanent. Let him understand that if he cannot do without 
his bad habits for two years, he must do without you forever. 

We advise also that you marry a man who has a fortune in 
himself. Houses, lands, and large inheritance are well enough, 
but the wheel of fortune turns so rapidly that through some in- 
vestment all these in a few years may be gone. 

There are some things, however, that are a perpetual fortune. 
Good manners, geniality of soul, kindness, intelligence, sym- 
pathy, courage, perseverance, industry and whole-heartedness. 
Marry such an one and you have married a fortune, whether he 
have an income now of fifty thousand dollars a year or of one 
thousand. A bank is secure according to its capital stock, and 
not to be judged by the deposits for a day or a week. A man 
is rich according to his sterling qualities, and not according to 
the vacillation of circumstances, which may leave with him a 
large amount of resources to-day, and withdraw them to-mor- 
row. 

If a man is worth nothing but money, he is poor indeed. If 



40 ■ LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

a man have upright character he is rich. Property may come 
and go; he is independent of tJie markets. Nothing can buy 
him out. Nothing can sell him out. He may have more money 
one year than another, but his better fortunes never vacillate. 

We counsel you not to marry a perfect man. If you find one 
without any faults, incapable of mistakes, never having guessed 
wrongly, his patience never having been perturbed, immaculate 
in speech, in temper, in habits, in life, do not marry him. Why? 
Because you would enact a swindle. What would you do with a 
perfect man ? You are not perfect yourself, and how dare you 
hitch your imperfection fast on such supernatural excellence? 

What a companion you would make for an angel! He would 
not stay an angel long. You would some day make him lose 
his patience, and then his faultlessness would vanish. In other 
words there are no perfect men. Never was but one perfect 
pair and they slipped down the banks of Paradise together. We 
occasionally find a man who says he never" sins. We know he lies 
when he says it. We have had financial dealings with two or three 
perfect men, and they cheated us. Do not, therefore, look for 
an immaculate husband, for you will not find him. While you 
are thinking he is perfect he will some day, while in a great 
hurry to meet an engagement, find a shirt-button off and your 
delusion concerning him will break, or he will find that one of 
the children has been sharpening slate-pencils with his razor. 

Let me tell women that there are no perfect men. We have 
been much among men and understand the whole tribe. 

On a clear morning when thoy are well-dressed, and the road 
is clean they look admirably, but none of them enjoy having a 
passing vehicle splash mud on their newly -blackened boots. 
None of them look amiable when a tobacco chewer spits against 
the wind and the yellow expectoration blows on their clean 
linen. None of them look placid when some one treads on their 
sore corns. 

If you want to find out that no man is perfect just marry 
him. But I think that the two sexes, laying all sentimentalisra 
aside, are about equal. If you secure for life the companion- 
ship of some one about as good as yourself you are to be con- 
gratulated. 

Better have the two blades of a scissors as near as possible 
alike. Get married, but with your eyes wide open. Remember 
the old proverb: "You have tied a knot with your tongue you 
cannot undo with your teeth," 



THE HONEYMOON. 

The bride at first turns pale, and then a lovely blush colors 
her cheeks. It is very becoming. Tears moisten her downcast 
eyes, but they are quickly chased by smiles. 

" I will, ''^ is uttered in a reverential voice, and lo! her new 
name is written. Where ? — in heaven, or in the sand ? 

Father and mother, and brothers and sisters, gather around 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 41 

her to say ^ood-bye, feeling that now her fate is sealed, and that 
she is going away forever — for nevermore will she be the same 
to them — going away with a look of hope and timid joy upon 
her youihful face to spend the honeymoon — that period which 
is supposed to be of unalloyed joy, unmitigated sw^eetness. 

The honeymoon is defined as the first month after marriage. 
This is the literal interpretation of it, but another rendering 
might be given. 

The cheerful yielding to each other's foibles; the glow^ing ap- 
preciation of each other's virtues; the holy commingling of the 
hearts of husband and wife, make the honeymoon of married 
life. And thus the orange blossoms may long retain their fra,- 
grance and purity, and diffuse a heavenly odor through the 
house. 

Love promises much in its early spring! 

In the billing and cooing time — during the honeymoon — 
everything is couleur de rose. 

There is no display of ill-temper, no sulks, no contradictions^ 
Indeed no! She is an angel, and where she is is paradise; he is 
her protector to cling to, her God to worship. 

The lover is not yet lost in the husband — the fascinating girl 
in the wife; the little acts of politeness and kindness, the sweet 
words and glances of love, that made up courtship still con- 
tinue. 

Unselfishness is no more a burden to the husband than to the 
lover; and to please is no greater effort to the wife than to the 
" bewitching girl." 

He does not forget his wooing veays; she does not forget her 
winsome smiles. There is not a single offensive " I will,''^ or " I 
will not " — ail is concord and confidence. 

What a blessed thing it is for you, young wife, that this de- 
lightful state of things is not necessarily limited to time! 

Why, if the honey sweet w^ere only to last but for one fleeting 
moon, you might well despair. 

Even Love has its laws; and the newly married wife is wise 
who is governed by them — who is content " to let ivell enough 
alone,'' and not expect too much. 

Love's flame is almost too delicate for a perpetual household 
lamp — it will burn dim, and finally go out, if not skillfully 
trimmed. 

It does not require a long honeymoon to distinguish between 
a mere fancy — born of accident or the strong necessity of loving 
— and a deeply rooted affection. " Faults are thick where love 
is thin," and Love's perceptions are as quick as lightning. 

The little wanged Cupids are well enough — on valentines — but 
they do no every-day work. Human hands must do that; and 
if young people would remember Lome of the old proverbs, such 
as " Before you marry have where to tarry," etc., there would 
be fewer unhappy honeymoons. 

Young lovers, pray do not imagine that when you marry 
your happiness is secured for life. 

*' As well expect eternal sunshine, cloudless skies." 



43 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

The real " hard pan" facts are that you will find your trials 
douhled. But do not be discouraged, for it will depend entirely 
upon yourselves whether your joys are increased. 

It is therefore a matter of the utmost importance that you 
should know the best way to secure a continuance of the honey- 
moon. 

The girl's period of courtship is generally a delightful one. 

Why ? Because there is a consciousness of mutual love and 
esteem. 

Now, it is comparatively easy for a pretty girl to win a lover, 
but it is much more difficult to retain his affections when he is 
merged into a husband. 

What sensible fellow will fall in love with a sour, sulky girl, 
even if she happens to have a Grecian profile, knowing her to be 
such ? 

It is the opposite qualities which he sees, or thinks that he 
sees, which determine his choice. 

Therefore, girls, be careful not to give your Apollo the least 
chance of changing his mind about you — or awake from a bliss- 
ful dream of future happiness, of which j^ou are the sun and 
center — because he has discovered' some disagreeable traits of 
character which had formerly escaped his observation. 

Be prudent or cunning enough to hide your faults, or, better 
still, give them up altogettier — and take a new and high stand- 
ard — for it is pretty certain that the happiness of after years 
depends upon your conduct during the honeymoon. Never fear 
— you can do it, too — and what more appropriate time could 
you have? 

It is said that " woman has a fiber more in the heart, and a 
cell less in the brain than man "—but her penetration is in- 
tuitive. 

By a glance of her eye, she will form a just and deep conclu- 
sion. 

Ask her hoiv she formed it, and probably she cannot answer 
the question. Therefore, she must soon perceive the faults and 
follies of her young husband, long before the honeymoon is sup- 
posed to be over, and if she is wise, she will strive against dis- 
enchantment, by 1 eflecting that there is no one perfect, and that 
ehe took him for " better or for worse." 

Moreover, she will do well to remember that reproaches will 
only confirm him in error, and that Ms affection for her will not 
be increased by her knowledge of liis peccadilloes. 

And so the true, loyal, loving young wife will early conform 
herself to circumstances, and no amount of sacrifice on her part 
will be too great to indelibly fix the too often fleeting delights of 
the honeymoon. 

But it must not be supposed that the young wife must make 
all, and the husband no sacrifice to promote conjugal felicity. 

He must not ignore or forget the fact that she has left all, 
and follov,'ed him through evil or good report. 

He is to point to heaven, and lead the way. 

What a dull plodder he must be who indulges in no castle- 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 43 

building or romance — who does not wish his honeymoon to go 
on ad infinitum, or who does not feel that 

" She is mine own, 
And I am rich in having such a jewel," 

But, young husband, please do not fancy thine " other self " 
a pretty toy to be carelessly thrown aside after the honeymoon. 

She is yours in the divinely appointed way, of " earthly good, 
the best," and it is your duty as well as privilege to cherish her 
as " bone of your bone, and flesh of your flesh," and if during 
the happy honeymoon, 

" All day, like some sweet bird, content to sing 
In its small cage, she moveth to and fro— 
And ever and anon will upward spring 
To her sweet lips, fresh from the fount below, 
The murmured melody of pleasant thoughts," 

it is yours to try, at least, to keep your bird singing joyous 
melodies, to cheer your path through life, which at the best 
will be rugged enough, Heaven knows. 

Let both husband and wife remember that there is much in 
the poetry of life, and that a daily attention to slight courtesies, 
a cheerfulness of assent to slight wishes, an habitual respect to 
opinions, an unwavering attention to each other's comfort at 
home or abroad, and, above all, propriety of conversation and- 
manner in private as in public, is the secret talisman, which, if 
faithfully practiced, will make wedded life one long, happy, 
golden honeymoon. 



HOUSEKEEPING. 

The honeymoon supposed to be over, and high-flown senti- 
mentality having been succeeded by a calm. content, the newly- 
married couple usually settle down to housekeeping. 

The young husband has by this time found that he has mar- 
ried a womau of the ordinary type, 

" Not too good for human nature's daily food," 

and the young wife, too, is dimly suspicious that her Adonis 
needs "managing," for verily, in the familiarity of home-life, 
the soul is in deshabille. 

It now becomes their bounden duty to find out the great 
secret of married life, how to keep their affection for each other, 
not only alive, but green and thrifty. 

Shall we board or keep house? is a question often discussed 
nowadays. 

It is a natural instinct of humanity to wish for a home — one's 
own, and not another's. We desire our child to have pleasant 
reminiscences of a comfortable home-nest, just as we enjoyed 
ours, in the halcyon days of boyhood or girlhood. 

Milton tells us, and of course he knew, that Adam and Eve 
had very little wiierewith to begin housekeeping; they had room 
enough, to be sure, but in our day, in cities that must necessarily 



44 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

be limited— still a home, in its widest, holiest j^ense, may be 
founded by an earnest young couple, even if it is begun in a 
^'flat." 

Keeping the house properly and systematically embraces a 
wide range for consideration; but the chief point is to have the 
home comfortable and attractive to the bread-winner, and at 
the same time give the busy house-wife time for needed rest and 
recreation, so that it will not become an " elephant," mighty for 
drudgery. 

To accomplish this successfully, the inexperienced wife must 
not be ashamed to learn, even in the humblest way^— the old 
colored washer-woman, the baker or grocer's wife — any one ex- 
perienced in the details of domestic life may become her 
teacher, and doubtless she will be surprised to find how much is 
to be learned outside of books. 

It is a deplorable fact that school or shop girls, or even over- 
much indulged daughters just launched into matrimony, are 
quite helpless as regards house-wifely duties, and it is rarely that 
one of them can cook an appetizing beefsteak, or boil a potato 
properly. 

It is essential then that the young wife learn how best to 
keep alive her husband's esteem by catering to his stomach in 
the most approved manner, for men like "good victuals." Let 
her not be discouraged by a few failures — experience cures all 
mistakes, and willing hands soon acquire the knack of turning 
out good bakes, boils, and stews. 

In the management of household affairs, it is wise to combine 
health, economy, and taste. If the meat is cooked to a nicety, 
and the pudding toothsome, do not forget tlie details of the 
table furniture, for a soiled cloth and an untidy, ill-arranged 
table is a disgrace to any housekeeper, and for sweet health's 
sake, remember that a single dish served with skill and taste is 
worth a dozen badly cooked. 

Taste also should play an important part in the role of the 
young housewife. Refinement is not luxury — it is always closely 
united with simplicity, and a tasteful employment of the means 
at command. 

Every wife is called to the ministry, with a Divine call too, 
and it is not a narrow nor limited one, even with a husband for 
its object. 

Herself a learner, she also has a mission to teach, and our 
word for it, such an one will not be a dawdler through life, all 
who enter her doors will see that '' cleanliness is next to godli- 
ness," that " she looketh well to her household and eateth not 
the bread of idleness." 

We read of floods of rosy light glancing upon rich curtains 
and gilded picture frames, and falling like a sunset gleam upon 
the damask tablecloth spread for supper, with its array of fine 
china and sparkling glass — this is luxuriance suggesting com- 
fort of a kind that all are not fortunate enough to possess. Yet 
we dare affirm that not one who reads these pages but can make 
home attractive to her "gude man," however humble it may 
be, for it may at least be kept in a delightful state of odorous 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 45 

cleanliness, not by *' fits and starts," but every day of the week. 
There are but few wives in middling- circumstances who can- 
not adorn and brighten tlieir houses with inexpensive elegances 
of home manufacture, knick-knacks combining the useful and 
tlie ornamental. 

The subject of economy in the household is almost endless. 

A wise young husband, once said to his mother, " You have 
had u varied experience — tell me — how can I manage to save 
something for a rainy day ? So much is needed that even with 
economy my salary is insufficient to supply our wants." 

" Then supply your needs and not your wants,^^ said she. 
" When you receive your monthly wages, confer with your wife, 
this is your duty and her right. Make up your account for 
rent, food-, and fuel. Then find out what she needs, then what 
is necessary for yourself, the surplus, be it little or much, put 
by for a rainy day.'' 

He followed her advice strictly, and thus they lived within 
their means and prospered. 

His wife knew just how much she could afford to spend for 
personal comfort and adornment, and being a sensible woman, 
she made the best and the most of it — and doubtless there was 
a vast amount of worry and mutual recrimination saved, as 
well. 

We are told that the home is a typical heaven. 

Perhaps the bright eyes of some pretty young housekeeper 
may linger admiringly upon Tom Moore's lines, when he says: 

" And when anger — for e'en in the tranquilest climes 
The breezes will ruffle the blossoms sometimes — 
The short passing anger but seemed to awaken 
New beauty, like flowers that are sweetest when shaken. 

This is poetry, but the sentiment is all '^ bosh." If you believe 
that there is any beauty whatever in a fit of spunk or sulks, just 
look in the mirror the next time you *' get mad" with your 
John. 

The Good Book says, " Anger resteth in the bosom of fools" 
— and even if your particular darling never even heard of that 
text, he knows as much about it as Solomon did — so don't give 
him a chance to think that you are a fool; remember that, 

" A somethino: light as air — a look, 
A word unkind or roughly taken — 
Oh! love that tempests never shook, 
A breath, a touch like this hath shaken." 

But what has this to do with housekeeping? one says. 

Everything for housekeeping means something more than 
getting up dinners, washing dishes and sweeping — it means so- 
cial converse as well — and habitual ill-temper spoils this, for it 
is an effectual damper to cheerfulness, and the poor victim 
knows not when or how the spirit of evil may burst forth, and 
it is a terrible strain to be always watching, lest it come una- 
wares. 

Any man of common sense prefers a sweet long-suffering 
patience, in the queen of his household, to mere personal beauty 



46 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

— beauty soon fades with the wear and tear of life — but the 
*' ornament of a quiet spirit " is above all price. 
It is the " house blessing.''^ 



THE FIRST BABY. 

Observe that young husband as he goes down town to begin 
his daily routine of duties. He meets a poorly clad woman 
carrying a small bundle — is it a bachelor's clothes for the wash ? 
No. " He knows better— he knows that wrapped up in that old 
shawl so carefnlly, is a mite of humanity — a baby — and he 
looks at the mother kindly. 

There is a softened expression in his eyes, and a certain elas- 
ticity in his tread as he walks on, and there is also a self-con- 
scious "congratulate me " sort of a manner in his cheery 
greetings that particular morning. 

Oh! it is plain that he is the happy father of a " first baby." 

The hours seem leaden- winged, so impatient is he to return to 
the nest. At last he reaches home — that little world over which 
he is monarch. He bounds up the stairs — two steps at a time, 
but he misses the accustomed kiss — for this time he is met by 
his mother- in law advancing on tiptoe, and wearing an anxious 
expression, and a slight frown, as she puts her finger on her lips, 
as a cautionary signal, whispering: 

" Hushl hush! Baby's asleep!" 

*' Who does the baby look like?" , - 

This is the first question asked by the uncles, aunts and coiisins. 

Some people think that all babies look alike— old bachelors 
and old maids, perhaps, but the parents know better — they are 
of the opmion that their darling is " too handsome for any- 
thing," and would take the first prize at any baby -show in cre- 
ation. 

" What's in a narne?" some one aptly says. 

A great deal for a baby. 

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego are very well for Christian 
martyrs in " ye olden time," but not one of them would do for 
a baby -show — they could not by any means be twisted into pet 
names. 

The little " tootsy-wootsy '' must have endearing titles— to be 
laid aside, however, as the years roll on. 

Names are generally given in memory of some one gone be- 
fore, or to perpetuate the particular family name. 

Baby's first (ixploit — after creeping — is to climb up by a chair 
and push it before him — and with what an air of triumph the 
little toddler, after repeated failures, and sundry troubles, suc- 
ceeds in walking by its help — and, growing bolder, at last starts 
off alone, and unsupported, on the long voyage of life. 

Courage, little one! Thou must meet with many a fall by the 
way, but press on; God helping thee, thou may est win. 

The first tooth / 

Poor baby, Through much tribulation, those little " tooth- 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 47 

ies," which cause a mother so much anxiety — are given thee. 
Not all at once, but, mercifully, at intervals. 

Beware, young mother^ of incautiously trusting thy finger 
within their reach! And oh! it is a blessed rest time both for 
baby and her, when those troublesome white molars are ready 
for " strong meat." 

Babies sometimes talk before they walk, but it is said that it 
is only girli^ who do this! 

The baby dialect is generally unintelligible; father and mother 
however, quickly learn it, and then the endearing pet names 
and baby talk commence. 

Happy is the young husband and wife who are privileged 
enough to understand and appreciate the prattle of their first 
" baby." 

Generally, father prefers a boy, mother a girl, grandmother 
gratefully accepts this "gift from Heaven," and forthwith pro- 
ceeds to spoil it. 

Why? Ah! This is a problem. 

Having cuffed and whipped baby's papa and mamma to her 
heart's content, she is now disposed to petting, she has probably 
grown wiser and more patient. 

To her the new-comer represents her own first-born, of the 
long time ago, and she loves it almost as fondly. 

It has been said that *' a baby in the home is a well-spring of 
joy." 

True, at its advent there must be no more slamming of doors, 
no more inopportune coughing, and even a sneeze must be sup- 
pressed at all hazards, and the impressible bit of clay becomes a 
veritable household tyrant. 

Even the " cunningest " baby in the world will assert his 
rights loudly and persistently, and pull hair and whiskers with 
impunity. 

What then ? Does any one wish to resent it ? 

No! on the contrary, the little cherub is almost smothered 
with kisses. 

'Tis well that the first baby brings love with it; the tender 
mother love best of all, and the sympathy that is excited by its 
very helplessness. 

The house containing a live baby is necessarily a wide-awake 
house, for its inmates are enlisted in its service, and their ener- 
gies are taxed to the utmost; for the care of a cross, crying 
baby is no sinecure, but the mother never tires in her labor of 
love. 

Oh! who can measure it in the weary vigils, in the anxious 
hours spent in battling with measles, whooping-cough, and the 
numerous ills peculiar to babydom, that fall to her share in that 
blessed, blessed baby! 

And oh! proud father, you too must bow before the house- 
hold idol; you too must share the responsibility. 

What! expect an unbroken night's rest, and calm and peace- 
ful slumbers, expect not to hear the midnight music of the 
little one! 

Fatal delusion! Uneasy lies the head who owns a baby, so be 



48 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

ready, like a good soldier, to turn out at a moment's notice, 
and do not ingloriously shirk — well — anything in thar line of 
duty. 

What matter if you seein to be number two, and are a bit jeal- 
ous because baby monopolizes too much attention? 

What are you going to do about it ? 

Why; love it all the more, to be sure, and do not be ashamed 
to let folks know that you do! 

Why should you not ? You are ttie richer, for it furnishes an 
additional incentive to toil, and bright hopes, and charming 
pictures of home comfort, and future activities cluster around 
the pretty occupant of the new cradle. 

*' A babe is a blessing," says the Good Book; all are not thus 
blessed, and not a few will envy you your treasure. 

A baby is an educator too; it teaches the young husband and , 
wife how like to children they should be, how pure in heart, ' 
how simple and sincere; their souls receiving new strength from 
this bond of sympathy, tliey will love themselves last. 

They will be more forbearing to each other, more ready to 
sacrifice, more loving, tender and true. 

Oh, there is o?^e affection which no stain of earth can ever 
darken — a mother's love for her first baby. 



MISTAKES. 

If the mistakes of young people just entering upon the active 
duties of life generally proceed from ignorance and thoughtless- 
ness, do they not then — the fashionable daughter as well as the 
toiling shop girl — need a friendly jog on the elbow, and a help- 
ing hand to point out the rough places on the journey ? 

We have been given some charming pictures of the past, to 
remind us that all down through the ages human nature has 
been the same, indulging in day-dreams, hoping, loving, and 
erring. 

Rebecca at the well, Rachel smiling on her lover as he labored 
for love of her in her father's fields, and Ruth sitting at sunset 
with the reapers, and taking the parched corn from the hand of 
Boaz. 

Yes, this is the same beautiful world that they enjoyed, with 
innumerable bits of brightness in it, to be had for the seeking, 
and doubtless during the Christmas festivities, and the greetings 
of the " happy New Year," you young folks have looked for- 
ward to a good time coming. 

1§86. Girls and boys, what do you propose to make it? 

Mistakes? All young people would be happy if they knew 
how. Is it not then encouraging to think that mistakes are 
not altogether irretrievable? 

The attractiveness which comes from youth and freshness is 
at best but temporary. Remember this, young ladies, and do 
not make the foolish mistake of supposing that you need noth- 
ing more. 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 49 

Youth is fairyland— the land of blissful anticipations, but 
there is a great difference between realiiy and appearance; "all 
is not gold that glitters," and the very best things in mind or 
manners do not float on the surface of what is termed society. 
No, they lie deeper; therefore, seek for simple pleasures. 

Alas! The root of all evil is selfishness, it blights and curses, 
and is generally united to laziness, and oh! what a disagreeable 
pair they are in any house. 

A selfish daughter, wife, or mother, is a blot in creation. 

Why, a slip-shod slattern, or an unlucky one whose " bread 
is always sure to fall on the buttered side," are angels compared 
to a selfish young woman. 

Therefore, look sharp, girls and boys also, and don't make 
the lamentable mistake of living only for self, and supposing 
that it is the violent passions of love and ambition which 
triumph over all others, for selfishness is the chief of usurpers, 
needing oft-repeated kicks and blows. 

Young people make the mistake of attributing everything to 
fate, chance, or luck; the endeavor is half the work. Anything 
worth having, is worth working for. 

The old refrain of *' try, try, again," applies to old folks as 
well, or rather to old " fogies," as you youngsters term the aged. 
You do not respect the ripe and varied experiences which age 
brings, and this, too, is one of the grievous mistakes of "young 
America." 

School friendships are gushing and confidential, but not 
eternal. True friendship is a rare and beautiful thing,. but like 
matrimony it is not to be entered into "lightly or unadvisedly;" 
remember that " birds of a feather flock together," and, 
" show me your company, and I will show you what you are." 
Therefore, it is important to make no mistakes iu your choice of 
friends. 

There are girls too, who mistake giggling and silly, thought- 
less speeches for smartness. A simper is not a smile, and 
there is no genuine ring in an affected laugh. If they but knew 
how much a modest reserve is prized by young men, of all 
classes of sociely, they would not— really good girls as they 
are— mdulge in levity and undue familiarity; and let us be 
permitted to kindly whisper, that such conduct jars upon a 
man's nerves as disagreeably as a severe shock from a galvanic 
battery. 

To avoid bitter experiences, let the thoughtless ones remember 
that a proper dignity and self-respect is one of the crowning 
charuis of womanhood. 

You will make a foolish mistake, young beauty, if you depend 
entirely upon your personal appearance to please, for a "right 
smart " attack of smallpox would mar it sadly, and you would 
be poor indeed. 

A plain face, lit up with the sunlight of cheerfulness, is 
a pretty picture enough for a young man to carry in his 
heart. 

Does the brother snub the sister, reserving his good manners 
for company ? Does the sister ignore the brother, behaving so 



50 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. , 

as to make bim suspicious of the pretensions of other girls when 
she can, if she pleases, shape his opinion of womanhood in the 
right direction ? 

If so, they both mistake the object of living. 

Oh! the home circle is the place to prove what kind of stuff 
youngsters are made of! 

Girls, do you recollect the familiar rhyme you repeated in 
your childish days: 

" Who ran to catch me when I fell, 
And kissed the spot to make it well? 
My mother!" 

Silly, is it? No, no, you are mistaken! That good old 
mother love has followed you ever since, toiling, planning, 
praying. 

Your mother is your best friend. Confide in her. 

If a young man will observe how "mother" is treated, he 
can form his conclusion accordingly. 

Books, books, everywhere! Will you elect to remaiu igno- 
rant ? It will: be a luillful mistake if you do. 

Make time for reading, by snatching odds and ends of it— if 
you are a toiler— and at the end of the year you will be the 
gainer, by so much knowledge; and do not forget that " knowl- 
edge is power." 

A girl is apt to imagine that her lover is ''dying about her," 
and could not possibly console himself with another — this is a 
common mistake; but who can "put an old head on young 
shoulders," and " who will believe our report?" 

My charming maid, whose bright eyes are now glancing over 
these pages, you expect to marry some day — do you not? 

Perhaps this year! 

Will you bear in mind that a wife should be chosen for quali- 
ties "ivhieh luear ivell?^'' 

Young man, take care! for you will make a life-long mistake, 
and surely come to grief, if you choose any other — make a note 
of it — than qualities ivMcJi ivear ivell. 

The young wife may perhaps make the mortifying mistake of 
especting a perpetual honeymoon. 

Married men are not sentimental; and the wife will be hap- 
pier if she cultivates a quiet trust, and learns that a calm friend- 
ship based on esteem is more to be depended upon than rhapso- 
dies and passionate vows, which soon burn out in their own 
flame. 

'^ The husband sometimes must not see, 
And blind the wife should often be!" 

No mistake about that! 

Young men, and young women, take courage! To err is hu- 
man. 

Strike a bee-line for the right. You will not mistake it if you 
follow the golden rule as nearly as possible. 

" Do unto others as ye would that they should do unto you." 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 51 

There is nothing truer than that beautiful thought of the poet: 

" He liveth best, who loveth best 
All things, both great and small." 



THE FOLLY OF FLIRTATION. 

Young man! when you meet a pretty and modest coquette, 
you will be bewitched before you know it. 

Be wide awake, then, or she will fool you! The swift motion 
of a deep stream, moving without a perceptible ripple, is nofc^ 
more delusive than the captivating smiles and honeyed words 
of the lovely swindler. 

Are there, then, no male flirts? Yea, verily, 

" By all the vows that lover ever broke 
In numbers, more than woman ever spoke!" 

But as long as the trifling danglers are smiled upon and en- 
couraged by honorable young women, just so long will tliey 
continue to be pests of society, and wickedly break confiding 
hearts. 

An unsophisticated young man, and sometimes a worldly-wise 
one also, will jump at conclusioDs. 

He ivill think that because a pretty girl obeys her natural in- 
stincts of wishing and trying to please him— because she receives 
homage as lier right and is proud to rule— although strangely 
framed to tease— he will jump at the conclusion that she is in 
love with him, that she is angling for a husband, and when the 
girl finds this out, she is at firsc indignant, and then begins to 
flirt, perhaps to cure his vanity, or to amuse herself,, or 

" Just to learn 

How to accept a better in her turn." 

Was it with feeling that her voice sank so low when she ex- 
pressed a wish that she should see him soon again ? Was it 
sympathy that dimmed her laughing eye? Why did her cheek 
crimson when she shyly allowed her'little hand to linger so con- 
fidingly in his? 

Ah, beware, young man, she is fooling thee. 

When you find to your cost that belles are saucy, and you sur- 
vive their fleeting fancy, you will feel like boxing the ears of 
the fair deceiver. You will say to yourself: 

" If she slight me when I woo, 
I can scorn and let her go. 
If she be not mate for me, 
What care I for whom she be?" 

This is a vexation of spirit— while it lasts— and the moral of it 
all is that young men should not jump at conclusions; but there 
is still another side, which also illustrates the foliar of flirta- 
tion. 

Young man, were you ever really in love ? 



52 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

So deeply, too, that you thought it was impossible to exist, 
except with an equal return from tbe beloved object? 

When you thought that you had touched a chord in another's 
heart, which had never before thrilled to love's music, when the 
dear lips, though mute, were yet eloquent, when the sweet, 
earnest words of love were trembling on your lips? 

Then to be rudely awakened, to find that your holiest affec- 
tions had been trifled with that you had been scorned, deceived 
and jilted. 

Oh I what bitter mortification and pain were yours. 

A friend kindly whispers to you, "What woman is so fair, 
that another may not be as fair ?" 

No, you refuse to be comforted, you rail at the whole sex, 
they are all alike — every one, you will never again be bam- 
boozled by the deceitful creatures and thus you remain a miser- 
able woman-hater. 

But as time rolls on, nature — or another woman — works a cure. 
The scars of the hard fought battle may remain, but, grown 
wiser, you exclaim: 

" When 1 see 
Love glvin' to rove, 
To two, or three, 
Then good-bye. Love, 
It Love can sigh 
For one alone, 
Well pleased am I 
To be that one." 

Alas! it does not always follow that a cure is effected; the 
wound of that ''pretty trifling" often strikes deeper, and the 
unhappy victim never recovers from it, for love scorned " doth 
work madness in the brain." 

Ob, the folly of flirtation. 

" Such is your cold coquette, who can't say ' no,' 
Aud won't say ' yes,' and keeps you on and offing 
On a lee shore, till it begins to blow; 
Then sees your Jieart wrecked with an inward scoffing. 
This works a world of sentimental woe, 
And sends new Werters yearly to their coffin." 

But what sort of a being is this formidable coquette, who thus 
trifles with the best feelings of a man's heart, w^ho drives him 
into dissipation, and even to suicide, and then calls it innocent 
flirtation? 

A coquette is defined by the best authorities, as a vain, airy, 
trifling girl, who endeavors to -attract admiration from a desire 
to gratify vanity, and then rejects her lover. 

She treats him with an appearance of favor, but with a de- 
sign to deceive. She knows her power over him, and delights 
to exercise it. In the world's parlance she " leads him on." 

Sometimes a systematic flirt is caught in her own cunning de- 
vices. She learns to love, and is slighted in her turn by the ob- 
ject of it. She may flirt, too, with a worthy object, and place 
her affections upon an unworthy one. 

Flirtation is a folly, because it is not discreet. 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 53 

Every young woman should be the representative of her sex. 

It should be her earnest endeavor to embody in herself all 
womanly worth. When she reflects that by rectitude of con- 
duct she dignifies and elevates to a higher standard of excel- 
lence all womankind, it should be an incentive, nay, a powerful 
motive, to illustrate in her own life " whatsoever is pure and 
lovely and of good report." 

Remember this, girls, and don't descend to mean, ignoble, 
flirting ways. Rather, look upward, be true to yourijielves and 
one another, even if you have to work hard for your bread and 
butter, and can afford no fine dresses wherewith to adorn your- 
selves; you can yet be a lady, in the best sense of the term, if 
you choose. 

Flirtation is a folly, because it is not honest. 

Love is a passion, God given, and not to be ashamed of, but to 
counterfeit it is a sin : ergo — to flirt is a sin. 

When an insane vanity tempts a girl to encourage the atten- 
tions of a lover, whom she knoivs that she will '* throw over,^' if 
he confesses his love and presses his suit, she gives occasion for 
his severe reprobation, she must not complain, for she richly de- 
serves all she gets, and more. 

By flirtation, friendship is broken, jealousy excited, materials 
furnished for "breach of promise" suits, and reputations are 
sometimes irreparably injured. Begun in mere thoughtlessness, 
fun, or spite, it often ends most tragically in death, or murder. 

Young men and young women, love each other as much as 
you please, honorably, "on the square," but don't make be- 
lieve do it, for you cannot now offer the excuse, " we didn't 
know the folly, nor the serious conequences of flirtation." 



BUYING A HOME. 

Young friends, who have just entered into the holy state of 
matrimony, the grand symphony of your lives has commenced, 
to echo on and on through the coming years; the world is all be- 
fore you, the real business of life has begun. 

What is your stock in trade all told? 

It is youth, with its opportunities, courage, wherewith to 
press forward, and the true affection you have for each other. 

Perhaps, too, there is that household treasure — a first baby, or 
mayhap a nest-egg of a few hundreds, or a few dollars only, or 
what is most likely, nothing at all. 

All the more need, then, of industry — the corner-stone of suc- 
cess. Industry is sure of its reward, and it will buy you a 
home if you so elect. 

Buymg a home seems too great an undertaking for one pair 
of hands, says the young husband. 

But you have two pairs! Do you forget that you are no longer 
a unit — that you have now a helpmate? 

Let us think over the matter, let us ascertain why you need a 



54 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

home, and this may incite you to begin to try, at least, to gain 
one. 

Every good citizen should found a home, for every home be- 
comes an argument for patriotism, inasmuch as it establishes a 
partnership in the government. 

Boarding houses are not homes, and a young couple cannot 
afford to help those who run them to riches. 

If men are to have their clubs, and women to have their 
clubs, what is to become of the family and household ? 

For it is the fireside of one's own hotne, with its soothing 
tranquillity, the family table, the companionship of family and 
friends in the evening hours when toll is over, which give en- 
joyment and zest to life, and courage as well, wherewith to bat- 
tle with tlie worries of the outside world. 

Tliese are the quiet, simple pleasures which help to make the 
true home, whether the house be of wood or brown stone. 

Have you happy memories of the dear old homestead? 

Then give the little ones who will bless your' firesides, the 
same opportunity to reverence home by locating if. 

Secure a permajient home — and avoid those disagreeble, de- 
structive, May movings. Ownership of a home gives a man a 
status in society — makes him more independent— and if sickness 
comes, or business is dull, there is no drain or dread of rent, 
hanging over him like an incubus — happily taxes are compara- 
tively light. 

Oh! to be one's own landlord! '' Monarch of all he surveys!" 

To be able to drive a, nail — or to suit one's self in surroundings 
without the interference of Tom, Dick or Harry— must be an 
intense satisfaction. 

In view of these practical considerations are you not convinced 
that it is advisable to buy a home ? 

How to buy a home! 

The first step is to rnean it — then set about it — then persevere. 

Don't trust to luck. 

Luck is ever waiting for something to turn up — labor turns up 
something, be it little or much. 

It is imperatively necessary that you both agree to live ivithin 
your means. 

Even then, you can live comfortable — and have a certain re- 
gard for appearances — and still have a margin over expendi- 
tures. 

Above all, keep out of debt. It is not good economy to buy 
on credit. You can get a better article for cash; besides, there 
is a sort of check in the sight even of hard earned money, which 
hinders the possessor from disposing of it foolishly, however se- 
ductive the temptation. 

Parsimony is a vice, for it narrows all good impulses; heap- 
ing up riches in that way is quite different from saving eco- 
nomically, and investing judiciously — and unsympathetic must 
he be who cannot spare a little for sweet charity's sake. 

And you, young wife, who are to be the central figure in the 
home, will also be required to sacrifice— -for talk as we will, un- 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 55 

pleasant duties which go against the grain of our pelfish natures 
are sacrifices. 

The time has passed for woman to exercise her power over 
man by appeaUng to his imaginations. She is no longer the 
creature whom troubadours suog of. 

She is expected to be a helpmate, to sit side by side with her 
husband, to share his success and disappointment, to warm his 
heart by companionship, and thus bind him fast to home. 

Diamonds, sealskin, expensive laces, India shawls, all confer 
a certain prestige in society— but you cannot afford such luxu- 
rieSj if you are living in a hired house. 

In order to have things harmonize, you must pay a high rent 
— and live differently too, than if you contented yourself with 
plain apparel. 

Would it not be v^^iser to have the money thus spent out at 
interest toward the new house ? 

But perhax')S you say, my tastes will be outraged, my husband 
has a good salary, he likes to see me well-dressed, and society 
demands it. 

Very true; but be sure that if your husband really intends to 
own a house, the rustling of crisp bank-notes will give him 
more solid satisfaction than the rustling of your expensive silks. 

And if your tastes are refined, they will of course be simple. 

They will not allow you a slip-shod style at home. 

Be content, then, to wait, young wife, for such extravagancies, 
and when you are tempted, let there be an emphatic, decided, 
'* no, we cannot afford it." 

The wife of a poorer man also cannot afford to imitate richer 
people. 

The money spent upon bogus jevv'elry, and a pretentious style 
of dress, which deceives no one, and which is neither orna- 
mental nor genteel, could be better invested for an humble roof 
which would be a shelter in sickness, or for the rainy days sure 
to come. 

One, too, can easily make away with money by giving fre- 
quent entertainments. A select few, who esteem you for what 
you are, rather than for what you are worth, will afford you all 
the society you need. 

What a satisfaction it will be to give a '' house-warming" in 
your own house, when it is furnished and all paid for. 

The first consideration in baying a home is location. 

As health is the sine qua non of home comfort, it is essential 
that all sanitary conditions be complied with as nearly as pos- 
sible. 

Avoid the vicinity of stagnant pools, offensive manufactories, 
and too low ground; above all, see that there is a sewer in the 
street where haply you intend to spend the best years of your 
life. 

" Despise not the day of small things." 

In the furnishing the homestead, often recur to the searching 
question: 

" Can we afford it ?" 

Do not make the common mistake of decorating the parlor 



56 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

handsomely, and leaving the kitchen bare of necessaries. Let 
there be harmony throughout. 

" Nor need we power or splendor, 
Wide hall or lordly dome; 
The good, the true, the tender 
These form the wealth of home." 



HOW TO MAKE HOME PLEASANT. 

Inasmuch as no one life is fully rounded or completed when 
lived for one's self alone, and that it is not what we shall eat or 
drink, or wherewithal shall we be clothed, that gives life its 
zest, it has been wisely ordained that mankind should be "set 
in families," the better to fulfill tlie hopes and aspirations of the 
soul; and so father, mother, child and home, have become our 
most cherished household words. 

There is nothing selfish or limited in the true mother love. It 
is as free as air, as boundless as the ocean, and fully as deep. 
Who can fathom it ? 

Gazing with eager, longing eyes down the vista of time, and 
feeling the tremendous importance of the present in shap- 
ing the future— perhaps some young mother asks herself: " How- 
can I best serve my husband and child ? How can I make home 
pleasant?'' 

Truly, much of the comfort of the household depends upon the 
training of the little ones, but they should have a place in it as 
responsible beings; it is unwise to cry "hush " or " hold your 
tongue " too often, and thus check their innocent impulses and 
inquiries, besides running the risk of making little prigs of those 
whose desire for knowledge is insatiable. 

Young folks are domestic tyrants, however, when they are 
allowed their own " sweet will " at all times; they are positive 
nuisances when, with sticky fingers and unkempt hair, they in- 
flict unwelcome caresses upon visitors— and when saucy, they 
deserve judicious punishment. 

Not that the youngsters' ears are io be made safety valves for 
passionate mothers! — punishment should be reformatory. 

The earnest mother can, by tlie exercise of a little tact, put 
heY&e\^ en rapport with her child, and thus gain its confidence 
and love, and at the same time control it. and what a delight- 
ful atmosphere has that home when the child is quick to obey! 

And if, on the contrary, the household is made uncomfortable 
by children who don't '• mind," it is almost invariably the pa- 
rents' fault; there are but very few exceptions to this rule, 

A consistent example is the beacon light of home! 

Precepts are useless without it. Oh! that this indisputable 
fact were indelibly graven upon every parent's heart throughout 
the length and breadth of our land! 

The opinions, the conversation, the manners even, of the 
parent, influence the child, and he is a keen-sighted, merciless 
critic tool 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 57 

Think of it, young father and mother! Perhaps years after 
you are dead, your child will remember your example, and fol- 
low it, whether it be good or evil. 

Young folks must be amused, it is a necessity to them, and if 
amusement is not provided for them, they will seek it for them- 
selves, and most likely away from home. 

Beginning with the rattle, the little irrepressible craves fun 
and frolic; boys and girls delight in noise. Let the youngsters, 
then, be allowed to romp occasionally, and to have their games 
of instruction and amusement, of which there is an endless 
variety. 

A piano is an economic investment, for music in the house 
makes home pleasant; it instructs and softens, it keeps young 
people within doors, for it brings cheerful company, and is 
provocative of mirth and hilarity; what is there more delightful 
than the blending of fresh young voices within the charmed 
precinct of home? 

A love for the beautiful and the ornatnental should be in- 
cluded in tlie education of young people, not indeed to super- 
sede the useful, but as tending to refinement of ideas and man- 
ners, and also to elevate the character of home pleasures. 

It is a grave mistake to suppose that refinement is a luxury — 
belonging exclusively to the w^ealthy. 

Talent brought out in any direction, fancy work, books, 
flowers, but more especially reading aloud, are all simple, inex- 
pensive methods of making home cheerful and pleasant, as well 
as of keeping mind and body out of mischief. 

It must not be forgotten, too, that proper ventilation is often 
the preventive of cross humors, and that without cleanliness a 
home cannot be even tolerably pleasant. 

Young people should be taught that instead of dawdling about 
the house they should have a life purpose; they should be told 
that however inconvenient and depressicg poverty may be it is 
not a crime, and that "the notion of great inferiority and un- 
gentleraanliness as necessarily belonging to the character of a 
mechanic" is simply ridiculous; that he is a king compared to a 
lazy, useless man, and that labor is sacred. 

" A servant with this clause 
Makes drudgery divine! 
Who sweeps a room as for thy laws, 
Makes that and the action fine." 

*' Blessed is he that considereth the poor." Not only with 
timely gifts, but w4th thoughtful kindness, and outspoken sym- 
pathy as well — sometimes of more than money value. 

Benevolence of the considering kind should be one, and not 
the least either, of the household mottoes. 

What sort of a home must that be where its members taJce all, 
but never give ? 

Boys as well as girls should be taught by example the courte- 
sies and amenities of life— those seeming trifles, generally re- 
served for the outside world, but which go far toward making 
home pleasant. 



58 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

Really, there is something expected of you— sons and daugh-- 
ters. 

You are surrounded by an atmosphere of love and care, and 
are a{)t to become selfish and ungrateful, accepting your bless- 
ings as a matter of course, and forgetting to contribute your 
share to the family comfort. 

Will you please remember that selfishness is only another name 
for utter destitution of spiynt ? 

Kind words! How sweetly they fall upon mother's ear in her 
despondency! What angels of light and mercy! Truly, they 
are Heaven's messengers! 

Next to the sunlight of Heaven is the sunlight of a cheerful 
face. Mother will be sure to feel its electrifying influence, 
and father will gain in faith and courage. Look cheerily, 
then. Answer softly, for ''a soft answer turneth away wrath;" 
and never forget that a sweet, even temper is to the house- 
hold what sunshine is to the trees and flowers. 

It is a fatal error for a woman to presume upon her privileges 
as a wife to become a slattern at home. 

It is to be hoped that courtship after marriage is not one of 
the lost arts. True, when men have once wooed and won they 
are content to be quiet and undemonstrative; but after all they 
become more keen-sighted, and if their pretty bir<l does not care 
to sing as sweetly they suspect that they have been caught with 
chaff. 

Tt will make home very pleasant if you, young married people, 
will but continue the thousand harmless stratagems which never 
failed — once upon a time you Jmoiv — to bring smiles to your 
lips. 

In conclusion, it is gentleness that softens rugged natures. 
There are tliose unsympathetic and crabbed upon whom it would 
seem almost a profanation to lavish one token of tender feeling, 
yet vv'e should " cast our bread upon the waters,'' and if it does 
not " return to us after many days " we shall at least benefit our- 
selves, for it a maxim, oft repeated, but always true, that "in 
order to be happy we should endeavor to make others happy." 

Moreover, " though we travel the world over to find the 
beautiful we must carry it with us, or we find it not." 

Then let us not wait for an opportunity of doing heroic deeds, 
and thus neglect the little things, the little kindnesses which 
makes domestic life what it is designed to be, and which after 
all are the very things that make home pleasant. 

" Oh, there are golden moments in men's lives, 
Sudden, unlocked for, as the little clouds, ■ 
All-gold, which suddenly illume the gates 
Of the lost sun. 

Oh, pray for them! They bring 
No increase like the gain of sun and showers, 
Only a moment's brightness to the earth, 
Only a moment's gleam in common life. 
Yet who would change them for the wealth of worlds ?" 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, §9 



UNEQUAL MATCHES. 

Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes says he would like tO' see 
any kind of a man, distinguishable from a gorilla, that some 
good and even pretty woman could not shape a husband out of. 
A woman that gets hold of a bit of manhood he likens to one of 
those Chinese wood- carvers who work on any odd, fantastic root 
that comes to hand, and, if it is only bulbous above and birfur- 
cated below, will always contrive to make a man, such as he is, 
out of it. 

There are some of the sex who goes so far, on Dry den's sl^ow- 
ing, as to desiderate a fool for a husband; but these, said glo- 
rious John, are a bad lot; or rather he did not say that, in those 
very words, but say it he did in curt diction of his own, more 
in keeping with the times: 

" Some wish a husband fool; but such are curst; " 

and, however it may fare with the precious pair during the hon 
eymoou, or say, the first week of that mellifluous period, all too 
soon it comes to pass that "the wife abhors the fool, the fool 
the wife." 

Corinne was on the highway to a match with a German noble 
who had won her fancy and esteem, but in time, and only in 
time, the lady perceived that he had few mental resources; when 
they were alone together, it cost her — even her — great trouble 
to keep up a conversation, and to conceal from him his own de- 
ficiencies; and as "a woman's feeling for a man anyway in- 
ferior to herself is rather pity than love," the match was pru- 
dently broken off, without any breakage of hearts on either side. 
Charles Kingsley has iterated his enforcement of the doctrine 
how much fonder women are, by the very law of their sex, of 
worshiping than of being worshiped, and of obeving than of 
being obeyed. A woman can love only when she fancies that 
upon the whole the object of her love is endowed with a greater 
and nobler character than her own; it may be that she possesses 
individually more beauty, more genius, more brilliancy than 
the man she chooses; but there must be a. preponderating char- 
acter in him; she must find in him something that supports her 
best and highest impulses, and which strengthens her weakness. 

" Though I liked Kew very much," is Miss Ethel Newcome's 
avowal, " I felt somehow that I was taller than my cousin, and 
as if I ought not to marry him, or should make him unhappy if 
I did." Every one, observes Mrs. Trench, pities those who 
marry a person extremely disagreeable in externals, but surely 
the other misfortune is greater, that of mismatched minds; and 
yet the world always thinks and talks of it as a kind of jest 
when people arc greatly mismatched as to understanding. 
Every man, said Leigh Hunt, is in the right to get as good a 
wife as he can; but that is no reason why a woman should put 
up with an indifferent husband. The fate of those suffering 
wives who suffer like Titania in her craze for Bottom is of the 
hardest, for the tim© comes when the enchantment is over^ and 



60 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

Titania loathes herself for having been " enamored of an ass." 
It is bad enough, as an Oldtown philosopher moralizes, to be 
obliged to " talk down " to those who are below one in intellect 
and comprehension; but to be obliged to "live down" all the 
while to a man without conscience or moral sense more than 
doubles the evil. 

If a woman loves deeply some one below her own grade in 
the mental and spiritual orders, how often do we see that she 
unconsciously quits her own rank, comes meekly down to the 
level of the beloved, and is afraid lest he should deem her the 
superior — she would not even be the equal. That is the favora- 
ble aspect of the situation as pictured in one of the Caxton nov- 
els; and one of Hawthorne's characters urges that people of 
high intellectual endowments do not require similar ones in 
those they love, but, like his Miriam in regard to Donatello, 
they find a fullness of contentment with the honest affection 
they have won — or at least, they think so for a time. 

Madame de Stael herself put up with a very commonplace 
husband in the full glory of her fame. But then he was no 
brute, nor fairly to be rated as boor or clown, and against such 
it is that the " Locksley Hall " warning holds good. If the hus- 
band is a brute, the wife must needs then turn quadruped, 
quoth Sauvageot in Aretin's dramatic satire. 

There is no fact in human nature to which, John Stuart Mill 
contends, experience bears more invariable testimony than this 
— that all sympathetic influences which do not raise up pull 
down; if they do noi tend to stimulate and exalt the mind, they 
tend to vulgarize it. 

The theory of man and wife, as expounded by Mr. Trollope — ■ 
in accordance with which the wife is to bend herself in loving 
submission before her husband — may be very beautiful, and 
might be good altogether, if it could only be arranged that the 
husband should be the stronger and the greater of the two; upon 
that hypothesis the theory is based, and the hypothesis some- 
times fails of confirmation. *' In ordinary marriages the vessel 
rights itself, and the stronger and the greater takes the lead, 
whether clothed in petticoats or in. coat, waistcoat, and trous- 
ers; but there sometimes comes a terrible shipwreck, when the 
woman before marriage has filled herself full with ideas of sub- 
mission, and then finds that her golden-headed god has got an 
iron body and feet of clay." 

To worship is to a woman, says one of them, always sweeter 
than to be worshiped: to worship, one must look up; to be wor- 
shiped one must look down. No woman, Lord Lytton assures 
us, ever loved to the full extent of the passion who did not 
venerate where she loved, and who did not feel humbled (de- 
lighted in that humility) by her exaggerated and overweening 
estimate of the superiority of the object of her worship. Her 
happiness, says Madame de Gasparin, is to obey; her wish is 
that the man she obeys be strong; she loves one who can com- 
mand, and none the less if his tone of command be peremptory, 
^' It must be irksome to submit to a fool," writes Mrs. Montagu, 
in respect of married life and her observation, |aot experience, 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 61 

of it. "The service of a man of sense is perfect freedom. 
Where the will is reasonable, obedience is a pleasure; but to run 
of a fool's errand all one's life is terrible." Tytler, in his " His- 
tory of Scotland," tells how few were the months before Mary 
Stuart had the misery to discover that, in the person of Darn- 
ley, her love had been thrown away upon a husband whom it 
was impossible for her to treat with confidence or respect. But 
was her next husband, the third, any improvement? Intel- 
lectual women, by the dictum of General Hamley, sympathize 
more with ambition than with content, and value a strong mind 
above the finest disposition in a man. They like something to 
lean against, with assurance of finding firm support; they like a 
nature round which their own may twine upward. Caroline 
Helstone's interjectional "Bat are we men's equals, or are we 
not?" is met by Shirley's reply, that nothing ever charms her 
more than when she meets her superior — one who makes her 
sincerely feel that he is her superior. 

" I prefer a master, one in whose presence I shall feel obliged 
and disposed to be good, one whose control my impatient tem- 
per must acknowledge — a man whose approbation can reward, 
whose displeasure can punish me — a man I shall feel it impos- 
sible not to love, and very possible to fear." The author of 
" Jane Eyre " and " Villette " v. as consistent and persistent in 
this doctrine; but that Charlotte Bronte had her eyes open, or 
opened, to the adverse contingencies of tlie case is apparent 
from such excerpts from her correspondence as this: " I was 
amused by what she said respecting her wish that, wiien she 
marries, her husband will at least have a will of his own, even 
should he be a tyrant. Tell her, when she forms that aspira- 
tion again, she must make it conditional; if her husband has a 
strong will, he must also have strong sense, a kind heart, and a 
thoroughly correct notion of justice;" because a man with a 
weak brain and a strong will is merely an intractable brute; 
you can have no hold of him; you can never lead him right. 

Of Griffith Gaunt and his wife we read that he was the hap- 
pier of the two, for he looked up to bis wife as well as he loved 
her, whereas she was troubled at times with a sense of superi- 
ority to her husband; and, though amiable enough and wise 
enough to try to shut her eyes to it, she did not always suc- 
ceed; and if for a while a contented couple, yet her dreamy eyes 
seemed to be exploring earth and sky in search of something they 
had not Intherto found. Mr. Trollope's " Caroline Wadding- 
ton " would not marry a fool, even though he were also a 
Croesus, or even though also an earl. . In choosing a master, her 
first necessity was that she should respect him, then that the 
world should do so also. Bertram's gifts of high feeling, with a 
poetic nature and much humor, hardly sufficed to win her 
heart; but won it was when to these he had added a strong will, 
a power of command, a capability of speaking out to the world 
with some sort of voice. 

" After all, power and will are the gifts which a woman most 
loves in a man." Lord Beaconsfield's Kate Grandison "could 
pot endure marrying a fool or a commonplace person;" she 



62 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

would like to marry a person very superior in talent to herself, 
some one whose opinion would guide her on all points, one from 
whom she could not differ: but not such a person as Ferdinand 
Armine, the hero of "Henrietta Temple; a Love Story," he 
being too imaginative, too impetuous— one that would neither 
guide her nor be guided by her. It is matter for observation by 
Sir Henry Taylor, in his " Notes From Life," that women of high 
intellectual endowments and much dignity of deportment have 
the greatest difficulty in marrying; and this, not because they 
are themselves fastidious (for they are often as little so as any), 
but because men are not humble enough to wish to have their 
superioi's for their wives. 

And on this showing they may escape not a little wretchedness 
by remaining single, if at least there be any truth in Monsieur de 
Sacy's averment that nothing in the way of punishment is to be 
compared with that of a married pair ill-paired, of whom the 
w^eaker has to succumb and to pay the penalty of ill-assorted 
union, until her very soul becomes degraded under the weight 
of an insupportable tyranny, and nothing but a blunting or 
weakening of her faculties, a growing stupidity that depresses 
or benumbs them, can give her repose. In Lady Castlewood we 
have Thackeray's contribution to the illustrative literature of 
this subject — from the time she found that her worshiped being 
was but a clums}^ idol, and then had to admit the silent truth 
that it was she was superior, and not the monarch her master- 
that she had thoughts which his brain could never compass, and 
W'as the better of the two; quite separate from my lord, although 
tied to him, and bound as almost all people — save a very happy 
few — to work all her life alone. And if it be painful to a woman 
to find herself mated for life to a boor, and ordered to love and 
honor a dullard, it is worse still perhaps, surmises the author of 
''Esmond," for the man himself, whenever in his dim compre- 
hension the idea dawns that his slave and drudge yonder is in- 
deed his superior, and can think a thousand thoughts beyond 
the power of his muddled brains. 

Be that as it may, the bargain is a bad one. But it always is 
best to make the best of a bad bargain. And for the wife in 
such a case all is not lost, and something is clearly gained, if 
she so act and endure that it shall never be the right of her 
fool of a husband to declare that he has a fool for a wife. 



THE USEFUL FRIENE. 

His experience of life must have been small, or his faculty of 
observation still smaller, who has not met with a counterpart of 
Thackeray's Dobbin in "Vanity Fair "—not exactly the man 
himself perhaps, nor one altogether his equal, but the same sort 
of good fellow, honest, simple-hearted, single-minded, and true 
to the core — whose doom it is to be disregarded in favor of a 
more showy suitor, but who remains an adoring worshiper, and 
a most obedient servant all the same. 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 68 

These devoted Dobbius are a peculiar people, whose devotion 
no amount of snubbing will extinguish, who count no sacrifice 
too costly for the object of their affection, and who are ever, 
like William of Deloraine, good at need when or before the cry 
for help is heard. 

The good creatures will deny themselves anything to do their 
inappreciative mistress a good turn. 

When the more brilliant, and shapely, and successful rival 
she has preferred is tired or neglectful of her, they are at hand 
with all the will and none of the pretense to play guardian 
angel, to watch over, if not beside her, lest she bruise her food 
against a stone, and, so far as in them lies, to make for her the 
crooked paths straight, and the rough places plain. 

There is something again to remind us of Dobbin in what .L 
S. Mill complained of in one of De Vigny's characters, that his 
goodness is too simple, his attachment too instinctive, too dog- 
like. We bear him in mind, too, when reading what Dickens has 
to say of a very different person, whom he describes as one of 
those unselfish creatures who will, for pure love and admiration, 
bind themselves willing slaves to perhaps utterly unapprecia- 
tive and unresponsive charmers— examplars of a truth which 
experience of the vvorld brings home to most of us, that there is 
nothing in it better than the faithful service of the heart. Such 
loyal suit and service may win slight recognition, may be 
slighted indeed altogether by the object of devotion. But some- 
times they get their reward, as in the case of Philip in " Enoch 
Arden," that " slighted suitor of old times;" for changed were 
the times since "Philip's true heart, which hungered for the 
peace" of Annie, was by her, and by fate, kept out in the cold. 

Voltaire bids us take note, in his commentaries on Corneille, 
that we never feel interested in a lover, in books or on the stage, 
who is clearly meant to be a rejected one. To be ever and for- 
ever rejected by his mistress is to be equally rejected by his 
audience — unless indeed he overmasters them by the extreme of 
passionate revenge. But literature off'ers us plenty of discoun-r 
tenanced lovers who are not without their interest for us. Of 
the Tressilian of Scott's " Kenilworth "and the Wilifred of his 
"Rokeby," a discerning critic has remarked that they are both 
executions of the difficult task of giving dignity to an unsuccess- 
ful lover; they are both men of deep thought and retired habits, 
who nourish an early, long and unfortunate attachment. In 
both it sinks so deep into tlie mind that it becomes their dream 
by night and their vision by day— mixes itself with every source 
of interest and enjoyment; and wiien blighted, and withered by 
final disappointment it seems, in both, as if the springs of the 
heart were dried up along with it. Yet there remains the 
cherished charge of guarding the endeared one from disaster, 
and vvatching over her welfare with ungrudging zeal. 

When Madame de Stael's Corinne dies it is with no one be- 
side her bed but the devoted and disregarded Castel Forte, faith- 
ful alone to the last, and at the last. 

The Corinnes of this world, it has been observed, care little 
how they pain the Castel Fortes, albeit the mere esteem of sucl^ 



64 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

a man as Castel Forte would have been worth even the love of 
twenty Oswalds. 

The Clara of Goethe's '' Ec^mont " has her single-hearted and 
devoted Brackenburg, but she has no eyes for him, though fain 
to own "what a true-hearted fellow'" he is — "kind, unhappy 
man," who is ready to weep with her at the fate even of his 
brilliant and successful rival — that rich man who lured to richer 
pasture the poor auin's solitary lamb. 

The varieties of the devoted Dobbin type in miscellaneous fic- 
tion are multitudinous. 

We think of him when Fenimore Cooper's " Pathfinder" re- 
signs his claim, not his attachment, to Mabel in favor of Jasper. 

There is a polished version of him in the Algeruoii of Mrs. 
Gore's '' Memoirs of a Peeress,'' who loves Miss Mordaunt even 
to the self-command of sacrificing every feeling of his own in 
order to secure her happiness, which he studies in ways and 
m'^ans the most minute as well as the most magnanimous. 

Then again there is the James of " Not Wisely, but Too Well," 
in comparison of whose pure, deep, utterly unselfish love — a 
love which, well hidden, was killing him by inches — Dare's mad, 
wild-beast passion for Kate was " as a striking, stagnant pond 
to leaping pellucid mountain brook." 

Another Kate — the Kate ('oven try of Why te Melville's book — 
lias her devoted Dobbin in the person of Cousin John, with 
-whom she plays fast and loose so ruthlessly. 

At times she has t!ie grace to reproach herself for her treat- 
ment of ''poor John. Nor can she get out of her head the tone 
of manly kind nesr> and regret in which he has addressed her. 

She reflects on his sincerity, his generosity, his undeviating 
fidelity and good- humor, till her heart smites her to think of all 
he goes on suffering for her sake; and she begins to wonder 
whether she is worthy of being so much cared for, and whether 
she is justified, for the sake of showy Captain Lovell, in throw- 
ing all this faith and truth away. 

Heroines of her complexion are not unaccustomed to regard 
and treat their devoted Dobbin as Antony regarded, if. he did 
not also treat, Lepidus: 

" This is a slight, unmeritable man 
Meet to be sent on errands." 

And so this or that Dobbin is sent on errands accordingly, to 
fetch and carry, and presently perchance sent about his busi- 
ness. The Alick Corfield of Mrs. Lynn Linton's "Atonement 
of Learn Dundas" is a salient instance of unrewarded loyalty in 
love. The Dobbin development is in him highly pronounced. 

His manners are shy, his gestures slow and sprawling; but 
even those who laugh at him most are forced to acknowledge 
that if the crock is homely, the treasure it holds is of the finest 
gold. If it was impossible to allow Alick Corfield the smaller ar- 
tistic merit, it was equally so not to admit that, although perhaps 
the most awkward fellow who ever shambled on two ungainly 
legs— or say, a)9 O'Gonneli did of Peel, oo two left legs — he was 
al.§Q OBe of the best and purestrhearted. '" it.ccoTding to tiiQ 



Letters to young peopLis. tiS 

miserable fatality which so often makes the spiritually best the 
physically worst — like the gods whom the Athenians inclosed in 
outer cases of satyrs and hideous masks of misshapen men — 
Alick's face was never lovely. But his soul? If that could 
have been seen, the old carved parable of the Greeks would have 
been justified." 

No amount of disfavor on the part of Leam Dundas availed to 
repel her unswerving adorer, who was used to her disdain, and 
even liked it as her way, as he would have liked anything else 
that had been her way. We find him content to be her foot- 
stool, if it was her pleasure to put her foot on him; and he would 
have knotted the thong of any lash she might have chosen to 
use; whatever gave her pleasure rejoiced him, and he had no 
desire for himself that might be against her wishes. If he 
yearned at times, when self would dominate obedience, that 
those wishes of hers should coincide with his desires, and that 
before the end came he might win her to return his love, what 
could be hoped froa\ a girl, not a coquette, w^ho was besieged 
on the one side by an awkward and ungainly admirer, when 
directly opposite to her was the handsome hero for whose love 
her secret heart, unknown to herself, was crying? Leam is 
said to have somehow felt as if every compliment paid to her 
by poor, ugly Alick was an offense to this handsome Edgar, and 
Alick she repelled, and left him blushing, writhing, uncomfort- 
able, but adoring still. He remained her faithful friend and 
guardian, wandering round and round about her like a dog, 
doing his best in her darksome days to make her feel befriended, 
and to clear her dear face of some of its sadness; doing his best, 
too, with characteristic unselfishness to forget that he loved her, 
if it displeased her, and to convince hef that he had only 
dreamed when he had said those rash words among the lilacs. 
What though he was himself now always wretched more or 
less? He was one of the kind which get used to its own un- 
happiness, even reconciled to it if others are happy. 

But if manly worth, generous devotedness, and self-sacrifice, 
a heart open to every generous impulse, and a hand ever ready 
to help the weak and lift them up that fall — if these and other 
kindred qualities count for heroism, there is manifest heroism 
in " Vanity Fair," and the novel is not without its hero. Grant 
that, and Dobbin is the man. 



A YOUNG WOMAN'S EDUCATION. 

Fair maiden, the wonderful volume of the Future lies un- 
opened before you; its covers are illuminated with the beautiful 
pictures of Fancy, and its edges gleam with the golden tints of 
Hope. Time alone can unlock the clasps. 

Tell me, do you desire the baleful word Ignorance, with all its 
tremendous results, to be written upon its page ? 

How long the years seem when one is young! 

A girl is apt to imagine that her education is finished when 



66 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

she leaves school — when, in fact, it has just begun. Schooling 
is but the foundation. As the busy bee seeks honey from every 
opening flower, so a wise girl Vv'ill improve every opportunity to 
gain iinowledge, for education includes many things outside of 
what is taught in schools. A young woman's calling is not the 
limited one that narrow minds concede it to be. 

If she would spend as much time in improving her mind and 
carmg for her physical health as she wastes upon dress and fash- 
ion she would soon learn the truth of this; she would find that 
life IS full of noble opportunities. 

It is, then, her bounden duty to educate herself to meet the 
possibilities of life, and not allow herself to drift into an aimless 
sort of existence. 

The maiden whose horizon is not wholly bounded by the 
"coming man " can hav^e a purpose in life, whether she ever 
meets him or not. 

A. young woman is not thoroughly educated unless she can 
sew. 

She may be an adept at music and dancing, and understand 
many languages, but if her fingers cannot put a garment to- 
gether deftly, or if they have no skill for fine touches with the 
needle, she is indeed sadly deficient. 

It is an all important part of a woman's education to be self- 
sustaining. 

Every young woman should have some educated talent, or 
trade, if you please, at her bidding, to fall back upon in case of 
emergency, for in our day of push and hurry, fortunes are 
made and lost quickly, and possibly she may become a burden 
to some one, and then to avoid this, may marry, unadvisedly, 
to better herself. 

Whatever there is a decided liking or genius for, let that be 
cultivated assiduously. 

We happen to know of families, in middling circumstances, 
where the daughters, who are refined, and living in some style 
and much social enjoyment, have been instructed in dressmak- 
ing and millinery. They make their own dresses and bonnets, 
and thus there is no necessity for pinching in order to pay the 
modiste. 

A young woman, absolutely and unconditionally, requires to 
know something of physiology, and especially of hygiene, or 
the art of preserving and prolonging life. 

It should be taught from childhood, with the best aids, ac- 
cording to her needs— here a little, there a little — not so much 
with a view to cure disease as to prevent it. 

She needs a general knowledge of medical science in her ca- 
pacities of daughter, wife, and mother, and to help her to ful- 
fill her various duties as a responsible member of society. 

Presence of mind is still another necessary adjunct of a 
young woman's training. 

]^ot to be ready at the moment of emergency or trial, to be 
but dimly conscious of one's faculties, to be too timid or nervous 
to call them into requisition when most wanted, w^hen perhaps 
a life is trembling in the balance, will cause a future of self-ac- 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 61 

cusatlon and repining, while a neglect to -educate one's self to 
this kind of self-control cannot be too severely censured. 

Cooking has become one of the fine arts. There are but few 
Juliet Corsons, but every young woman can learn the best 
methods of preparing wholesome food. 

She can be taught in this particular branch of womanly duty 
— not to guess at weights and measures, nor to mix at haphaz- 
ard — but to work intelligently; to know the why and where- 
fores of her doing. 

Some knowledge of the details of business, hitherto deemed a 
man's prerogative, will be useful to a woman, either as maiden, 
wife or widow; happily there is a growing desire to be taught in 
this direction. 

The golden opportunities which girls have for reading, for se- 
curing the best thoughts of the best minds, are seldom appre- 
ciated until it is to late to repair the error. 

Utilizing the knowledge to be derived from books, while the 
memory is active, and before the cares of life press too heavily, 
will prove a girl to be possessed of s«)und and common sense. 

The words that fall broadcast from the mother's lips should 
be pure, simple words, so that her daughters can gather them 
up for a life's use. It is painful to listen to the conversation of 
some young women, mixed as it is with slang phrases, ungram- 
matical expressions, and numberless superlatives. 

Wherever a young girl is there should be a sweet, wholesome 
atmosphere of purity, love and truth, pervading, influencing, 
and educating the entire circle in which she moves. 

Never think that your education is finished, or even near being 
BO, my dear girl; one is never too old to learn. 

To be sure, all are not *'cut out" for great deeds; some must 
creep where others fly, and some people's "fingers are all 
thumbs," but you can live for something. 

There are abundant opportunities for self culture, for social 
enjoyment, and for charitable effort, if you so ordain. 

The signs of the times in regard to the education of young 
women are full of cheer. 

They give promise of a more generous culture, larger views, 
and more kindly tolerance in the future, among all classes of 
Hociety. 



A YOUNG MAN'S EDUCATION. 

It may be that some young fellow who reads these lines was 
obliged to leave school too soon — earlier than a son and heir of 
wealth — in order to learn a trade, or follow some humble call- 
ing. 

"That's just my easel" you cry. 

Is it? Then, what are you going to do? 

Your stock of ideas is small to begin with, a mere rudiment- 
ary knowledge; you know but litcle of life— less of yourself; 
your heart is full of various impulses, and restless cravings for 



68 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

some imaginary good or evil, and even though you have left 
school, your education is but just begun. 

It makes no difference what your station or calling in life is, 
you need an education; even if it happen to be of the lowest 
grade, you had better be educated, fox intelligence elevates? 
every calling— even that of street sweeping. Bear in mind at 
the start that ignorance is disreputable I 

Nay, it is a crime almost in our day of grand opportunities. 
Ignorance, depravity and vulgarity are three birds of ill omen 
that flock together. 

It is a mistake to suppose that knowledge is the prerogative* 
of wealth or leisure, or even of the professions; every young 
man may educate himself. 

Think of the noble army of self-made men, scattered broad-^ 
cast over the world, who have in the workshop snatched pre- 
cious moments to hoard precious thoughts — who have devoted 
their spare hours to close study — who have, even in slave life, 
stolen away, although in fear of punishment, to trace the let- 
ters of the alphabet, wnth no better pencil than a rough stick — 
of those, who thus gaining knowledge step by step, have at last 
enriched the world. 

Does not your heart leap and your pulses thrill with a noble 
ambition to emulate such earnest endeavor? 

To be eure, not every young man is a genios, with a superior 
intellect; but even genius needs industry to develop it, and it is 
a fatal mistake to trust to that lazy man's re^fuge — luck! 

No! In order to bring out talent one rnust be perseveringly 
industrious. To derive benefit from books needs industry, and 
there is an infinite variety of ways of making a man of you, 
but all need painstaking industry, and may well be included in 
your education. 

Perhaps you have already been puzzling your brain as to the 
best methods of attaining to a noble manhood, and there has 
been a croak from a favorite companion lest you should no 
longer be a " good fellow," and perhaps sneers and ridicule, too, 
at your idea of elevating yourself. 

A companion of this sort would in one half hour undo the 
education of years. 

A boy of fifteen once asked his mother to give him a motto or 
text that would be of practical service through life, one that he 
could associate with herself, bind upon his heart, and write 
upon the palms of his hands, ready for use at a moment's 
emergency. 

" 1 know of none better for a talisman than this," she replied. 
" ' My son, when sinners entice thee, consent thou not.' " 

The first step leads to the last, and there come words of warn- 
ing to you, rolling down from the past, just as true as when 
first uttered, and you can quote them to your croaking sneering 
companion if you like. 

"There is a way which seemeth right to man, but the end=5 
thereof are the ways of death." 

Truly, it is a desirable thing to be able to look every one full 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 69 

in the face, not with unblushing effrontery, but with a conscious- 
ness of rectitude. 

A young man should educate himself to obedience to natural 
laws, should learn to know how to use himself, and the best 
method of developing robust health. The idea that none but 
medical men should know anything about physical health has 
long ago been exploded — gone to the moles and bats. 

Profane swearing is to a young man what superlatives are 
to a girl. It is mere superficial habit — the sooner gotten rid of 
the better. 

What would be thought of a gentleman who should rudely 
and intentionally tread heavily upon another's corns? 

So the profane swearer hurts some one's sensitive feelings, and 
is guilty of impoliteness, to say nothing of the irreverence and 
lowering of the mind's moral tone. 

Cursing is many degrees worse, for it involves evil or harm 
to some one; of course, the evil does not necessarily follow, and 
the eld saying has it, that "curses come home to roost;" but 
this branch of a young man's education may be easily neg- 
lected. 

Loafing on the street corners leads to a near acquaintance 
with vice of many kinds; it leads to late hours, which involv^es 
a great loss to a worker of nature's restorer, sleep; it intro- 
duces you to dangerous company, those who sneer at purity, 
who loan you pernicious books, who instruct you in wickedness, 
who use you for wrong-doing, and then leave you to bear the 
consequences alone. 

These branches of a young man's education may also wisely 
be neglected. 

The young man of our times is highly favored ; he is not 
obliged to remain in a low or narrow position, if force of cir- 
cumstances has placed him there; he can educ/ite himself out 
of it. 

His own acts will, in a great measure, determine his course 
in life; happily he can etect to aim high and then strike a bee- 
line for it — he can, at least, be a man, even if he cannot become 
a great one. 

'* When I marry," said a beautiful young lady, *' it shall be to 
a gentleman." 

What is a gentleman ? 

Washington Irving has given us his idea of one — and he was 
good authority. 

" A conscientiousness in regard to duties, an open truthful- 
ness, and absence of all low propensities and sensual indulgen- 
cies, a reverence for sacred things, a freedom from selfishness, 
and a prompt disposition to oblige — and, with all these, a gay- 
ety of spirits flowing from an uncorrupted heart." 

It is to be hoped that the " coming sweetheart " may find these 
admirable qualities in you ! 

We must not forget that to the young there is beauty in vice, 
and in infinite variety too. 

Gambling with its fascinations; intemperance with its glib 
sociability; di^b.' ■"z:'^"^-*-':' 'P. rn?.'riDg baste to be rich; we might go 



70 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

on ad infinitum with the list of temptations that will heset a 
young man— some of them, at least, if not all. 

They will come to him, not in all their terrible deformity — not 
with the full shining light of experience, but hidden by the 
blooming flowers which grow so luxuriantly over the lava of 
sin. 

We cannot shut his eyes, nor close his ears; we cannot force 
him to be good; we can only utter a heartcry of warning; for he 
is free to choose, he is free to educate himself! 

A young man's education should comprise a provision for old 
age. This seems a long way ahead; but time is remorseless, and 
he will need something tangible to fall back upon. 

If the first steps lead to virtue, the last are likely to be in the 
same direction. 

Is it not best to begin — to begin now — so as to have the satis- 
faction of looking back upon a well -spent life — a life of useful- 
ness — and of leaving an honorable name and example to those 
who will come after you? 

In conclusion, the Good Book furnishes us with a variety of 
axioms. Here is a pertinent one, which we offer with our best 
wishes, to every young man beginning his education: 

" As ye sow/so shall ye reap." 



A YOUNG MAN'S COMPANY. 

" Be not deceived: evil communications corrupt good man- 
ners." 

" Tell me your company, and I'll tell you what you are." 

*'OhI what's the use of harping upon these old saws?" says 
one. 

Because, my young friend, the spirit of evil is about — con- 
tinually—^' seeking whom he may devour." 

Every young man should remember that the character which 
he is to sustain through life, and which is to sustain him, is to 
be formed now — in youth — for the habits, principles, and man- 
ners of the youth are essentially those of the man; hence 
knowing a man by his ccj^npany is a truth universally received. 

Thinking, not growth alone, makes manhood. There are 
some who, though they have done growing, are still only boys; 
they may be excellent gymnasts, or winners at a walking 
match, but they do not think— they drift — like a rudderless ves- 
sel; and are thus at the mercy of bad companions. 

And what a host of them there are — ready to meet every 
emergency in a young man's life whose mind is vacant. 

" Oh! but I know what I'm about! I do not intend to be led 
by the nose!" says another. 

Of course you think so; a man ought to be able to say no, as 
well as a woman; and not to have a will of one's own renders 
one ridiculous, even to the very persons who lead us. 

Bo act trust to your iufet^MQn& of xe-ctitudei^ You will either 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 71 

approve, or disapprove of bad companions. If you approve, 
you will imitate them. You will become one of them! 

" You must, and will have society and friends." Yes, but 
your voluntary choice of them proves your own disposition of 
mind. How vital it is, then, to get your mind into proper train- 
ing to choose wisely — how important it is for you to think. 

The surest guarantee to success is decision of character; and 
no one ever attained to this enviable characteristic without 
^acquiring the habit of acting upon fixed principles; surely, 
then, the choice of companions must not be left to chance or 
caprice. 

Of all the arts that will be used to allure you, none will be 
more potent than ridicule. 

Evil companions never call things by their right names. De- 
bauchery, prodigality and drunkenness they define as " living 
like a gentleman," while economy and sobriety are meanness 
and " want of spirit." 

Now it must be conceded that great fortitude is required to 
remain firm in integrity during an onslaught of raillery — and 
here is a grand opportunity to show your courage and good 
sense under this formidable fire of ridicule. 

If you do not at once fall into this trap and cry: " Hail fel- 
low, well met — I'm with you," they will dub you coward, and 
return to the charge with greater temptations— and there is 
danger that by becoming familiar with evil courses, you will 
cease to regard them as evil, and by thus ceasing to hate them, 
you will soon learn to endure, love and practice them. 

Perhaps you think this is an old fogy sentiment — but all the 
same — it's true. 

An habitual loafer, who yet appears respectable, is not a fit 
companion — he is generally ready to pounce upon you from a 
street corner, to coax you on to ruin. 

Do not allow him to gain the advantage of even one false step, 
for then he will no longer have faith in your resolution, but will 
be sure that you will be less likely to resist the second. 

In keeping his company, you must necessarily loaf also— and 
this will seriously affect your prospects in life, even if you mean 
well, for an observant, prudent man would hardly expect to find 
an habitual lounger trustworthy. 

This kind of companion usually lives by his wits; by borrow- 
ing, begging, or getting somehow — and the " somehow " often 
leads to the gallows. 

Perhaps some young man has already commenced " seeing 
life," under the guidance of a rollicking companion, he is being 
initiated, and he rather likes it, he seems to be walking in 
straight and verdant paths strewn with flowers — perfumed — 
melodious with the warbling of birds, and overhung with lus- 
cious fruit. 

Let him beware! He is on the devil's highway. 

And the idle, loafing kind of a life leads to lying, obscene con- 
versation, falsely called lively sallies of hMmov— double entendres, 
which pass for wit — delight in villainous pictures, gambling, 
drunkenness, swindling schemes, defaulting, burglary, revenge 



12 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

and murder, besides those which are unfit even to mention 
here. 

The reaping of all this sowing is remorse. 

But we hope better things of you who heed our warning. 
There is happily a brighter side to the relations which a young 
man may have with his companions. 

Although environed with terrible temptations, you may lead 
an honorable, virtuous life. Take heart, then, for much is ex- 
pected of you. 

The state needs you; society needs you, and some young 
woman, a helpmate, is waiting for you. 

If your calling in life is coarse, low or unremunerative, it is 
not vulgar simply because of it; if your externals are humble, 
make it up inside, and if possible associate with your superiors. 

Seek for the companionship of a disinterested friend. 

A friend upon whose fidelity and counsel you can safely rely 
in ail your difficulties, who will console, delight, and help you. 

Be honest. 

Free trust, full power, and immediate temptation should be 
the greatest motive for forbearance. 

" Blessed are the pure in heart!" 

Cultivate, moderately, the society of well-educated young 
ladies, whose genial, refined influence will incline you to good- 
ness and propriety, and value their friendship as a privilege. 

Right living gives a clear conscience, sound health and manli- 
ness, which is only another name for nobility of soul. 

Deserving companions minister to your self-respect, they de- 
velop the good in you, and there is no after pain in the pleasures 
to which they lead you. 

These companions of yours, of what sort are they ? 

If opportunity, temptation occur for wrong doing, do they 
advise you to stand firm ? 

Do they lead you from vice or toward it ? 

Are they truthful, honest and just in their dealings ? 

Are they seeking to enlighten and elevate you, or are they 
dragging you down— down to their own level ? 

Once more, '* Tell me your company and I'll tell you what 
you are I" 



A YOUNG WOMAN'S FOLLIES. 

Folly is defined by good authorities as •' Want of understand- 
ing—an absurd or imprudent act, not highly criminal — sin — 
depravit}:- of mind." 

Doubtless young women are not aware that such strong lan- 
guage could be applied to them. 

May not a well-wisher, in a kindly spirit, take you by the 
hand — in imagination at least, and have a familiar, earnest chat 
about these follies which you would assuredly mend, if you 
could see yourselves as others see you ? 

" Perhaps it will turn out a song, 
Perhaps turn out a sermon." 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 73 

It shows a serious "want of understanding *' for a young 
woman to allow herself to be so wholly given up to amusement 
as to be really unhappy when left aloue to her own resources — 
for without the stimulus of fun, she will have but a sorry time, 
and her mind will be fallow, indeed. 

Folly has its humorous side also. Any young woman will 
furnish an example of this who munches peanuts in a street- 
car, dipping persistently into the paper bag, until the whole 
quart is devoured! 

" Vanity of vanities " is tight lacing; and it may fitly be 
classed among the " sins." 

The corset fiend is a growing evil,' too! 

To be squeezed as in a vise — subjected to a species of inquisi- 
torial torture— insidious, slow, but sure, is certainly one of the 
most inexplicable of follies — and oddly enough, it is also the 
most difficult to resign. 

Tight lacing has always been unqualifiedly condemned by the 
faculty; and we advise young women to read what they say 
about it — " a word to the wise is sufficient." 

It is an absurd folly for a young woman having dark hair, to 
bleach it, and suddenl}- appear as a blonde: one may justly sup- 
pose that she cares more for the outside of her head than for the 
ideas within; besides, the fraud is apparent, for the work is 
never perfectly done. 

We happen to know of two young women who lamented the 
premature appearance of a few gray hairs so very much, that 
to conceal them they used a popular hair-dye. The result was 
— death. 

The frequency with which we see young faces beaming from 
beneath locks white or gray enough for an octogenarian, is be- 
coming alarming! 

When will our girls learn to be content with such charms as 
nature gives them ? 

Why do they imagine that a number four foot looks well in a 
number two shoe ? And as if this was not harmful enough, 
they must wear French heels, and go mincing and shambling 
along as if " treading on eggs " — when they know that the wear- 
ing of these high, narrow heels are detrimental to sound health, 
and also seriously affects the eyes. 

If kept within reasonable limits, the desire to look stylish and 
pretty is commendable in young people; but it is a folly to fol- 
low fashion too closely, and serve merely as a lay-figure for the 
exhibition of fine clothes. 

It makes a young woman too conspicuous, and thus provokes 
criticism; it shows the caliber of her mind, entails useless ex- 
pense, is a waste of time, an<i causes envy. 

A story is told of a girl w^hose health suffered from following 
the extreme vagaries of fashion. In order to effect a cure for 
this mania, her father sent her to a school in an obscure village, 
supplying her regularly with a Fashion Chronicle, gotten up by 
himself to meet the exigencies of the case. 

At the proper time she was allowed to return home and ac- 
company her father to the oper?^~a- huge carrot graced her 



H LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

bonnet upon that occasion — the latest style from the Fashion 
Chronicle. 

She was effectually cured by ridicule. 

But was the wearing of the ugly yellow vegetable any more 
ridiculous than fashion's freaks in our own day of owls, daggers 
and horse-shoes ? 

It is painful to see the gewgaws that young women wear; 
cheap imitations that deceive no one; copper bracelets, over 
soiled gloves; insects worn as earrings, which, by the bye, are 
relics of a barbarous age when nose jewels were the rage, and 
many other absurd fashions which are not in good taste, if not 
in keeping with their position, dress and general appearance. 

Dancing may rightly be classed among a young woman's fol- 
lies, if enjoyed immoderately to the detriment of health and 
modesty. 

With some it becomes a passion, they are not happy unless 
they can 

" Dance all night till broad daylight," 

and then, perhaps, are obliged to go to work in the morning. 
Verily, this is a dangerous folly. 

It 13 said that in a certain part of our globe fair emigrants 
receive offers of marriage through speaking trumpets, before 
they leave the ship. " In this country, however," adds the 
narrator, " it requires something louder than speaking trum- 
pets to make them keep their distance." 

Indeed? Girls, what a humiliating satire this is! Is there 
a grain of truth in it ? Let us think of the subject together. 

Forwardness and presumption convey a disagreeable impres- 
sion to every intelligent observer. 

Young men especially are very severe in their criticisms of a 
young woman's conduct. 

They may admire your beauty and grace, but they will not 
respect your follies — and every bold, forward girl brings odium 
upon the whole sex. 

You must ever bear in mind, that it is a woman's province to 
be wooed— not to woo. 

Beauty receives flattery — but beauty combined with ignorance 
and folly will not please a sensible fellow very long; the plain- 
est features if irradiated with intelligence and good sense will 
be preferred. 

A young woman should not let judgment lose its balance in 
love matters. She must not suppose that her lover is *' dying 
about her." 

This is folly, because experience has proved that, as a rule, 
he will not die — when rejected, but will live — to marry an- 
other. 

Sometimes, too, a young woman seems unaccountably pos- 
sessed with the spirit of coquetry, and lavishes smiles us though 
they were of no value. 

We know that our girls, notwithstanding their faults and 
follies, which are generally the result of ignorance and thought- 
lessness, are full of sweet, wholesome and generous impulses. 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 75 

We rejoice that their follies provoke ridicule rather than cen- 
sure. 

Their souls are pure, and their faces betray continually the 
Uglits and shades of their nature. 

Let it then he their highest endeavor to press onward, to a 
noble womanhood. 



COMMON SENSE. 

Common sense may be defined as that faculty of perception^ 
or sense of fact and right, which is common to mankind — a 
faculty which may be developed to a high degree of perfection, 
or exist in a good serviceable sort, without what is called edu- 
cation. It is important to obtain a clear notion of this quality 
or property of the mind, as its character and usefulness have 
been very seriously questioned of late by philosophers and 
teachers to whom the world is wont to look as leaders of opin- 
ion, and whose dicta on any subject of general and personal in- 
terests must needs exercise a large measure of influence. It has 
been contended, and with irresistible force, as we think, that 
there is a point in the history of knowledge, or information, at 
which truth or fact becomes self-evident— that is to say, as the 
saying goes, on self-evidence. 

It is necessary to determine where this point lies and how it 
is reached. That the conditions may, and probably do, differ in 
respect of individual subjects to cognizance is obvious; but it 
seems likely, on the face of circumstances, that a point must be 
reached where truth becomes self-evident, with respect to every 
matter of which the mind is able to assure itself. 

The progress of science is a gradual subjugation of facts to 
the reign of the self-evident. Ac first a matter of cognizance is 
doubtful: as we become better acquainted with it, we perceive 
not only that it is, but that it must be, as we find each day new 
evidences of the truth are discovered, until at length the fact 
becomes self-evident, and its knowledge is a simple act of com- 
mon sense. 

This would seem to make common sense a faculty occupying 
an advanced position in the field of mental exercise— and so in 
truth it is; but the progress of science has rather to do with the 
subject-matter of cojnmon sense than with the faculty itself. 
Doubtless in the course of racial development the faculty has 
been improved with the other properties of the human brain. 

The average mind of a civilized people has grown to a higher 
and better type as the result of educati-on, so that propositions 
are more easily understood than they used to be, and better in- 
tellectual work is done by a larger number of persons in the com- 
munity. It is not, however, with this development that we are 
at the moment principally concerned. 

Science, so to say, conquers the kingdom of truth in detail, 
and, as each new fact is annexed and its constitution and rela- 
tions are expounded, it is added to the stock of knowledge fall" 



76 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

ing within the province of common sense. For example, the 
law of gravity, v/hich is a comparatively recent discovery, has 
come to be a matter of common sense, that is, a self-evident 
proposition which can be understood by everybody without an 
elaborate and almost without any conscious process of reason- 
ing. 

The process by which this -point is reached is, as we have 
said, one of elucidation. The facts and conditions which sur- 
round and shape a truth are explored and explained so that 
every one sees them. It is upon the discovery of these connect- 
ing links that everything depends. The same links, which are 
in truth laws, apply to an innumerable multitude of facts; just 
as the same rules of arithmetic are applicable to and govern 
every possible combination of figures. It is with these links or 
laws that common sense operates. In the hands of that faculty 
they constitute a series of ready and simple tests which, being 
applied to objects of which we have not as yet acquired any 
certai n experience, enable us to classify them, to detect and 
expose fallacies. 

What the two-foot rule and the plumb-line are to the car- 
penter and builder, these laws or principles of truth are to com- 
mon sense, and with their aid everything new or old, strange 
or familiar, is, as it were, instinctively tested. Thus the matter- 
of-fact thinker who is asked to believe in a ''ghost" refuses to 
do so, because it is, as he says, opposed to common sense that 
there should be existences which do not conform to his system 
of nature and cannot be approached by his tests. 

As science advances, it may happen that other laws and prin- 
ciples of nature, as yet unthought of, will be discovered, and 
then the area of common sense will be extended so that things 
may be included which are not at present even dreamt of in its 
philosophy. 

No man of experience or active observation can be content to 
bound his view of nature by the limits of common sense, 
although he may refuse to accept anything directly opposed to 
it. The self-evident is true; but two questions arise — what is to 
be the measure or test of self- evidence, and is that quality or 
property of truth to be deemed indispensable? Are we to be- 
lieve ail that seems evident to our senses? If so, we may be 
cheated at every turn. It is, in a practical sense, '* evident " to 
most of the persons present at a con jurer's sea?2ce that he places 
the pea under a particular thimble, yet he does not do so. To 
the multitude of observers before the time of Copernicus it was 
"self-evident" that the sun moved. Those who insist on self- 
evidence as the test of truth probably mean to include experi- 
ence as part of the proof, or they attach a special significance 
to the cerm " evident '' and make it stand for generally accepted 
as proved. 

On the other band, it wrould be rash to discard the agency 
and teachings of common sense. What this faculty cannot 
comprehend, should be regarded as subject to further inquiry, 
or mast be taken on authority; but i% jis awlagonistic to the 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 77 

spirit and experience of science to deny the existence of all that; 
cannot be demonstrated. 

Hereafter common sense may come to be the universal in- 
stinct of comprehension; as yet it is only one of many powers 
wherewith the mind is endowed, and which in turn it must ex- 
ei'cise if it would be wholly wise, logical, and tiuth-seeking. 

Not one man in a thousand knows — of his own knowledge — a 
tithe of the so-called " facts" with which he is acquainted; yefc 
no sensible person would dare to twit the possessor of a large 
stock of book-lore, in short, a w^ell-read, but untraveled man, 
•with defect of common sense because he believes on authority. 

It is not necessary to go to England in order to believe in the 
existence of London. The tea we receive from China is, in a 
way, evidence of the fact that there is a country of that name 
where tea is cultivated, but the assumption is made on authority. 
When skeptics object to authority as a basis of faith, they do 
not so much demur to the nature as the quantity of the evidence. 
It is important this should be understood. They do not think it 
unreasonable to believe in the existence of a country called 
India, although they may not have seen it, because a large 
number of reputable persons have affirmed the f.-ict. 

What they do object to is our believing in the existence of a 
God and a future state, since, as they say, no witnesses can be 
brought to corroborate the assertion. It is, in short, against the 
lack of corroborative testimony and of experience, not against 
authority, that the objection is urged. This being recognized, 
it is useless disputing over a point with regard to which there 
is no diff(3rence. 

Common sense admits authority, but tlie authority must be 
concurrent, or so corroborated by dependent evidence that it 
may be reasonably accepted. 

There is no objection, for instance, to believe the fact that 
Caesar commanded the Roman legions which invaded Gaul, al- 
though there can be no living authority as to this fact of history, 
but the testimony to the truth of the history told by the chron- 
iclers has been continuous, and is therefore brought home to thq 
mind, and within the grasp of common sense. 

It should be the aim of those who seek to combat the skeptical 
spirit abroad to show that this is the case with regard to Chris- 
tianity; that the authority on which the system rests is not ex- 
hausted, but has been continued to us by a cloud of witnesses, 
whose numbers must give weight to the testimony they bear. 

There is nothing opposed to common sense in religion, but 
minds are not to be coerced into believing without the presenta- 
tion of evidence— the evidence of authority — upon which to rest, 
and in which to repose quietly, hopefully, and faithfully. 



ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 

Accomplishments include something more than skill in art, 
trade, or house-wifery, for excellence of mind, as well as ele- 



*^8 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

gance of manners, constitutes an important part of the acquire- 
ments of a fully accomplished young woman. 

The more talent a woman has, the more she feels bound to 
make of herself a perfectly rounded character, and of course just 
as women are elevated will their children be elevated. 

The field of science and art is so vast and broad, that it al- 
most robs one of courage to think even of beginning, but expe- 
rience proves that that which we acquire with the most diffi- 
culty we retain the longest, and perhaps value most. 

To enjoy life properly one must be in possession of sound 
health, and if a young man or woman include among their ac- 
complishments a fair knowledge of hygienic laws, thev will 
have learned the art of self-defeose. 

This is a fact of incalculable importance: 

" 'Tis beauty that doth make women proud; 
'Tis virtue that doth make them most admired — 
'Tis modesty that makes them seem divine." 

Modesty, then, is a necessary accomplishment. *' It is a kind 
of quick, delicate feeling in the soul which makes a woman 
shrink and withdraw herself from everything that has danger 
in it. It is such an exquisite sensibility as warns her to shun 
thej^rs^ appearance of everything which is hurtful." 

Elegance of manner is a desirable accomplishment. 

True politeness is rare. "We have our society manners, but 
they are put off with our evening costumes, as too fine to be 
wasted upon one's own family. We have, too, a wholesome 
dread of Mrs. Grundy; but what about our appearance and con- 
versation at home ? 

It is apparently trifling things that mark good breeding. Per- 
fect ease of manner — an absence of hauteur, and of servility — 
combined with dignity and affability, are the characteristics of 
the true lady. 

Nature is not kind to all young women; to some she gives 
harsh, rasping voices — and what is more disagreeable than a 
rough, loud voice? 

We are all of us influenced by the tones of the voice; then why 
not cultivate our own — its intonations, inflections, and, above 
all, its pitch — and thus improve it for conversation so as to bo 
able to manage it easily and judiciously ? 

To be able to talk well— to converse properly and elegantly, 
and to the point — clearly expressing the ideas, is an accomplish - 
mt^nt to be coveted, but having a glib tongue, or the " gift of 
gab," does not constitute a good conversationalist. 

Candor is also an accomplishment suitable for a young 
woman, if it does not include rudeness. It requires tact to tell 
the truth — in these days of society lies — without making it a 
bitter pill to swallow. 

Tact is a rare gift. To have the power of overcoming diffi- 
culties, and repairing blunders, and of promoting harmony and 
enjoyment in our little circle, and to do it unobtrusively simply 
by the exercise of a little tact, is an accomplishment worth pos- 
sessing. 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. ^9 

System if' a household economy, forbearance is the watchword 
of the family circle, and sewing is a personal necessity and 
accomplishment. 

Sewing is social — it does not interfere with thought or con- 
versation — the mind and tongue may move in company with 
the needle — and then, too, in completion there is usefulness. 

Verily, skilled fingers can mingle subtle, shadowy, fantastic 
sliapes and intricate patterns until they are fashioned marvels 
of beauty, which shall be a "joy forever." 

What a vast amount of beautiful creations there are, scattered 
broadcast around us— from rare pictures and sculpture down 
to lovely trifles— exquisite cobwebs, and airy nothings, which 
seem the work of fairies. 

Even to see them is a pleasure worth living for; then what a 
grand thing it must be to have the power to create even the 
least of them. 

Oh I it is good to be accomplished. 

Our expensively reared American girls of the upper classes 
scorn the very idea of having a trade; tliey are quite above 
learning the pleasure and value of money earned by themselves. 

If they can do fancy work, and sing, and dress well, and un- 
derstand the irksome etiquette required in fashionable society, 
they are considered accomplished. 

This butterfly existence gives them but vague ideas of the real 
duties of life; if they but look charming, and make a good 
match, and excel other girls in a turn out — this is happiness. 

Queen Victoria has had each of her children trained in some 
one art, trade or accomplishment, that each could be a bread- 
winner, if necessary. What a contrast. 

An earnest woman, under ordinary circumstances, may, if 
she chooses cultivate any talent she possesses, to its utmost 
extent. 

She may educate herself to the ownership of many useful and 
ornamental accomplishments. 

She may learn to control her temper to evenness, and her 
voice to gentleness; she may make herself entertaining, and 
useful to the comfort of others. 

She may be a toiler in the world's vineyard, and yet have time 
and opportunity to acquire rare excellence of mind and person; 
and in addition to natural graces, she may be an accom- 
plished woman with elegant manners. 

All this and more is possible. It has been done, and will be 
done again. 

Then take heart and couragel 

There's a chance for every young man and woman to make 
themselves a necessity, wherever or whatever their lot may hap- 
pen to be. 

*' Who does the best his circumstance allows, 
Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more." 



80 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 



DRESS, 

That one might '^ as well be out of the world ae out of the 
fashion " is less true nowadays — for fashion, less arbitrary, al- 
lows larger freedom of choice, and greater liberty to consult 
one's individual taste. 

Taste is the faculty of discerning beauty, symmetry, and har- 
mony; therefore to dress well, it is necessary to have some 
knowledge of one's own " points.'' 

For example — a tall woman should not wear a dress with 
stripes, as it will make her appear taller — and a short, plump 
figure will be still mere diminutive in one of a large showy 
pattern. 

Sisters sometimes dress alike. One may be blonde, and the 
other brunette, yet they will both wear blue bonnets— one may 
have red hair and the other brown, yet pink dresses will be con- 
sidered equally appropriate for both. 

A florid complexion needs toning with cold, neutral tints — 
while a warmer coloring in ribbons or flowers sets off a pale, 
delicate one to greater advantage. 

Thus, to study one's " points," becomes a necessity if there is 
a desire to attain the extreme of elegance. 

No vagaries can excel the fashion in dress, except, indeed — 
the weather — and with such complete resources of opportunity 
and selection womeu can consult their individual tastes. 

And what beautiful things there are to choose from; no 
wonder the shopper is tempted, there is such beauty and vari- 
ety of fabric, such prodigality of color, and patterns so artist- 
ically lovely that one needs to ponder and balance before pur- 
chasing. 

The love of dress in woman is severely and sarcastically criti- 
cised by men; but what about the impetus this very passion gives 
to trade? 

Think of the millions of dollars she sets rolling the world over, 
and of the vast army of workers employed in her service. 

Women dress for women — not for men. Very few men can 
easily detect " imitations " in the adorning of costume; if the 
general effect is good they are pleased, but women can tell at a 
glance the genuine from the false. 

Apparently it is the wish of every woman to dress as well as 
her neighbor; of course, then, the toiler must obtain a wardrobe 
wholly disproportioned to her means, or take refuge in cheap 
imitations. 

There are girls who prefer severe simplicity rather than wear 
sham jewelry, even though it might look just as well; they are 
exceptional, however, for it is indeed difficult for ** a maid to 
forget her ornaments." 

Time vvas when women were a "piece of a pattern;" there 
seemed to be but little diversity of taste, and to differ from 
everybody stamped one as " peculiar;" but now fashion is never 
at a standstill; it wavers and drifts into all unreasonablenesSj 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 81 

and we have our day of circumference, followed by that of 
attenuation. 

Of course , the full development of cultured taste is hampered 
by limited means — but after all a woman's dress betrays some- 
thing of her mind, or at least hints at its caliber. 

it seems to be a duty, then, to dress becomingly— to contribute 
a share of harmony and also of fitness to the ethics of fashion, 
but time is too precious to be wasted upon its passing fancies. 

An ugly bonnet is trying to good looks, but young people do 
not suffer as much as their elders, in the wearing. 

" Our beauty's bonnet, 
Not a ribbon or rose upon it, 
Such a Quakerish little hat! 
But never a soul that gazes 
Where such a blooming face is, 
Thinks of aught but the rose on that!" 

But there is an art in growing old gracefully — a faded face 
looks older still when contrasted with the bright fresh qolor that 
belongs alone to youth. 

Costly lace is an important accessory to the toilet. There is 
an ethereal delicacy in its graceful folds which softens and im- 
parts an added loveliness to beauty — and it is the ambition of 
women to possess it; where one has an embarrassment of riches, 
this is very well; but alas! the estravagance of fashionable 
women has much to do with the countless embezzlements and 
defalcations that are every day bringing names once honored to 
obloquy. 

" We sacrifice to dress, till household joys 
And comforts cease. Dress drains our cellars dry. 
And keeps our larder lean," 

Wives and daughters worry themselves haggard in their en- 
deavor to compete with those of larger means, and it is a strife 
trying to the temper and nerves, and wearing to life. 

Statistics inform us that the list of bachelors is alarmingly in- 
creasing — young men fear to marry, lest the wife's bills, added 
to their own extravagances, should be a burden too heavy to 
bear. 

Young women have assumed a masculine style of costume. 
It is convenient and inexpensive, has the merit of being less 
elaborate, and is a decided improvement upon the bloomer 
style, but it is offensive to old-fashioned notions of correct 
taste. 

Fashion has its arbitrary rules, even for the expression of 
grief. Sable robes as a badge of mourning have become so uni- 
versal a custom that those who neglect this mark of respect for 
the dead are branded as vain and heartless; and there are few 
who have the courage to bear the brunt of outraged public 
opinion. 

There are those, however, who would deem it a pain and 
mockery to flaunt gay colors, when the heart is full of sorrow 
for the loved ones gone before. 

Young men and maidens should conform to the prevailing 
modes— always, however, with restrictionSi, . 



82 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

They should avoid extremes, and never wear anything unbe- 
coming to their general appearance and position in society, or 
offensive to morality. Girls should give the lungs plenty of 
breathing room, and dress the feet warmly, and every econom- 
ical young woman knows that she who has no second dress finds 
it difficult to save the first. 

They should adapt their attire to their surroundings and oc- 
cupations, and if much in the kitchen they should wear a cal- 
ico and not a cast-off party-dress — some seem to think that any 
kind of an old dress, however shabby, is good enough for home 
wear, who yet siiine resplendent in society. 

There are vulgarisms in costumes as well as in manners — • 
soiled or ripped gloves worn with a toilet of satin — a profusion 
of cotton lace, coarse enough to betray its plebeian origin, and 
an inharmonious blending of colors, plainly show a want of re- 
finement, and missing buttons supplemented by pins hint at 
extremely careless habits. A happy mean in dress is best. 

We laugh heartily to see a whole flock of sheep jump because 
one did so, yet we often follow suit just as absurdly, and when 
we make ourselves ridiculous, or outre we must submit to be 
laughed at. 

Finally — dress adorns, dignifies, degrades or educates, accord- 
ing as we use it. 



THE PASSING HOUR. 

Youth is the time for the singing of birds. It seems never 
tired of seeing or hearing, and every object is tinted with the 
warm glowing colors of fancy. 

It is the ideal worLl of expectancy — the ship is sure to come 
in and to bring with it fortune and happiness. 

The lessons of the passing hour, undoubtedly, have such a tre- 
mendous influence upon the plastic minds of our young folk?, 
that educators and philanthropists, alive to this fact, are every 
day devising ways and means to avert the evils which menace 
them. 

One of the growing tendencies of the hour is to undervalue 
home— its simple, wholesome pleasures and duties. 

The daughters of the family too often lead superficial lives — 
they have their society manners and conventional phrases, 
which are laid aside with their society dresses, while the sons 
and brothers make of home merely a lodging place, after the 
" wee sma' " hours. 

Neither of them have time to cultivate home virtues or 
giaces — or to become acquainted with one another — or yet to 
learn tliat the real marrow of life is in its higher experiences. 

Truly this is a fast age! And corrupting influences seem to 
be alarmingly extending in our growing republic. 

The homelier virtues of prudence, patience and humility are 
in danger of being despised. 

Integrity is too little thought of— making haste to be rich is 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 83 

becoming a passion— while political honors are used but as 
stepping-stones to fortune. 

Alas! Fraud most bare-faced; murder and outrage most foul, 
give evidence of an increasing lack of morals — how pertinent 
then is the question of tlie hour: 

" Whither are we drifting?" 

Our young people do not need to be told that idleness leads to 
crime. 

The young idler seeks to kill time — enjoying the passing 
hour in butterfly fashion, while the industrious may be said to 
call it into life. 

Hora ruit ! " Never put off till to-morrow what you can do 
to-day," is a precept taught in the very morning of life — but is 
seldom learned till late in the evening. 

"Millions for one moment of time," said Queen Elizabeth, 
when dying— but millions could not buy it. 

An indolent young fellow once said to the girl he loved best, 
" I could be happy anywhere, with you by my side." Like a 
sensible girl, she took advantage of this willingness — not, how- 
ever, showing her hand,?— and led him to entertainments, and to 
lectures, where amusement was combined with instruction, 
where high art appealed to the nobler part of his nature, until 
he became really interested, and at last acquired a taste for 
simple, ennobling pleasures and pursuits. 

No young person need be idle — or ever need fear the want of 
a mission. 

The passing hour furnishes abundant opportunities for cloth- 
ing the shivering, and canying comfort to sick beds and good 
cheer to desolate homes. 

Young people are too apt to enjoy the passing hour in reading 
only for amusement. 

" Reading," says Bacon, " makes a full man." Reading is to 
the mind what food is to the body — to be vigorous and healthy, 
it must maintain a thorough acquaintance with the imperish- 
able thoughts of the living and the dead. 

There are treasures in books for our inheritance, and the 
choicest gold to be hail for the digging; but we must dig — 
earnestly and persistently — it is genius alone which waits for 
impulse. 

How foolish to waste life waiting for a golden opportunity of 
doing something great! 

Reading without proper discipline, is really nothing more 
than laborious trifling — habits of this kind of thoughtless in- 
dolence are easily formed, and what at the passing hour seems 
but a small affair will soon become fixed, and hold one with the 
strength of a cable. 

We must labor, then, to obtain mental culture; and it is per- 
fectly clear that the most industrious has really the most 
leisure. 

Even this passing hour may be utilized by learning this one 
important fact, which if acted upon may lead to fame and 
fortune. 

The mind should be so trained as to be prepared with materials 



84 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

of real practical use — gathered little by little — by persistent, 
well-directed study and reading; it will then have a plentiful 
storehouse from which to draw in any emergency, and there 
will be a provision for any condition, high or low — for a 
thorough education is a fortune in itself. 

Nothing is more delightfully characteristic of the passing 
hour than the interest which is manifested in giving to woman 
solid, substantial accomplishments, which shall qualify her 
creditably and honorably to fill her appropriate place — to add 
to her usefulness, and to perfect the symmetry of her life. 

It is a law of nature tliat our minds insensibly imbibe a color- 
ing from those with whom we associate — then each passing 
Iiour as we travel onward — at work, or play, let us choose 
wisely those companions who will perhaps shape our thoughts 
and actions. 

The youth of our country tread upon ground bought with 
hardships, toil and blood. 

With such a glorious heritage, how can they be ignoble? 

Their watchword should be — onward — upward — excelsior! 

The lessons of the passing hour open to them immense fields 
of usefulness. 

Let them, then — guided by the principles of the immortal he- 
roes—be alive to duty — and active for the welfare of society. 

Let them persevere — putting heart into their labor of love, and 
setting their faces resolutely against shaais and extravagancies 
of all kinds, try to extract what pure, sweet honey they ma" 
from life. 

" Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime, 
And in dying leave behind us 
Footprints on the sand of Time. 

Let us, then, be up and doing, 

With a heart for any fate; 
Still achieving, still pursuing, 

Learn to labor and to wait." 



SOCIABLES. 

We all know that pleasure is the sine qua non of youthful 
hearts. 

Imagination necessarily belongs to the spring-time of life; 
for without an enjoyment of the poetical and aesthetic, youth 
must Jose half its attractiveness and influence for good. 

When once the stimulus of amusement has been tasted, lifg's 
common, simple duties seem insipid; but let us not forget that 
the harm comes not altogether in the use, but in the abuse, 

''Sociables?" The very name suggests coziness, good cheer 
and hilarity. 

Our young people— especially the dwellers in cities can have 
no adequate idea of tlie old-tirne gatherings known as donation 
parties, guilting bees, apple paring frolics, hiiskiugs. etc, iu 



LETTERS TO VOUNG PEOPLE. ^^ 

Which all ages and sexes participated, grandfather, and" gran- 
ny "even, joining in those innocent games in which kisses for 
the fortunate were admissible. 

Generally the young folk, tiring of these, paired off by them- 
selves, for more boisterous fun— such as romping around the big 
chimney, leaving their elders to enjoy a bit of quiet gossip over 
cups of fragrant Bohea. 

But these olden-time gatherings have become mere memo- 
ries of the past, and in their stead we have the modern so- 
ciable. 

Perhaps of all others church sociables are the least objection- 
able as affording more rational amusement, and as being an 
" informal company " of the same tastes and opinions, gotten 
together with but little of time or money, and whose respect- 
ability is vouched for by the very fact of membership. 

But resembling most its old-fashioned neighbor is the 
meeting of the popular downright merry-makers, known as 
" our set." 

They are scattered broadcast among young people, and there 
is a wholesome atmosphere of hospitality and geniality among 
them which is very enjoyable; and as everybody knows every 
other body thoroughly, there is mutual liking, sympathy and 
confidence. 

And the lads and lassies frequently become so well pleased 
with each other, that they are content to remain together for aye; 
and our set sociables and surprise parties result iij many happy 
marriages. 

Then, too, there are the more formal receptions. To avoid 
fuss, wealthy fashionable ladies prefer to receive their callers 
all at one time, and so they are " at home " on some designated 
day. 

Verily! sociability of this sort is a snare and a delusion I 

The house is brilliantly illuminated — in the day time; the better 
to conceal blemishes, and to produce artistic effects — the hostess 
in full dress, dispenses fashionable smiles indiscriminately; 
while coffee or chocolate in tiny hand painted china cups is 
being banded to the guests, together with bits of rich cake, 
which they nibble, while furtively, yet critically, examining their 
neighbors' costumes. Then the majority go away envious and 
dissatisfied. 

Truly this too, at the end, is vanity, and vexation of spirit! 

Tlien, there are the evening receptions, where dancing alter- 
nates with flirting; and the more pretentious reception and in- 
troducing of some distinguished guest, who is perhaps a star of 
the first magnitude, and there is a crush and a rush to behold 
him in his glory. 

Alas! there is a rush for the edibles also! 

It has been said that Americans '* look genteel," but that 
they " feed vulgarly." 

Is there not a grain of truth in this sarcasm ? 

Indeed, it seems as if such guests brought their appetites with 
tliem; and, as a vicious critic has it, "sharp set, from a lean 
larder/' 



86 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

Hope for flowers in summer, and warmth in winter, but do 
not expect sociability at receptions. 

Hops, re-unions and coteries, are more formal and perhaps a 
shade less social than calico, necktie, or apron parties; these 
each have their specialties of fun — so do leap year parties, or 
" hops," which coming so seldom, and affording such a privilege, 
are all the more appreciable. 

At the West silhouette parties are the rage, and in our own 
city we hear of phantom parties. 

One can readily imagine that a social element would obtain, 
where skillful fingers cut and distributed likenesses of the guests, 
but what phantom parties can be is not easy to determine. 

Are the young people costumed to represent ghosts, or is the 
company composed only of thin, ethereal people, of more shadow 
than substance ? 

Verily! we have something new — and, possibly the phantoms 
are sociable. 

For pure, unmitigated gossip, we will not say scandal, lunch 
parties take the lead. 

Think of it, the band of noble reformers, broadcast over our 
land, women sitting with their bonnets on at a table covered 
with fine linen, satin and lace, with furniture of rare device and 
loaded with delicacies brought from the corners of the earth, 
sitting thus for four long hours, sipping and ciiatting about — 
what? The fashions, or their servants, possibly. 

Women of position and culture, too, from whom we might 
expect better things. 

The amount of fatigue society women go through with season 
after season is amazing, yet they claim to be so high-toned as to 
be refined to the point of etherealism. 

Some of them — a few only — affect extreme sensibility by 
lavishing feeling upon pet dogs, carrying the little animals 
about wrapped in rich garments, cut according to the latest 
style — for ^ogs — yet these aristocrats would actually blush to be 
seen in the streets carrying their children in their arms. 

Truly this is the essence of vulgarity! 

The mother carrying the dog — the nurse following with the 
baby ! 

And yet this is but one outcome of folly from the evil done 
by a false, strained social element, and our fashionable young 
woman would do well to consider it. 

The vivid tingling of delight with which young people seize 
upon pleasure in its various forms proves it a necessity — but 
'• where there is all holiday, there is no holiday," says Charles 
Lamb. 

There is such an element of expansion in leisure that unless 
carefully repressed and limited it will soon absorb one's whole 
life — it will intrench upon the mind, too, and lower the standard 
of morality. 

It is very desirable that you young folks should be able to 
carry into life an inward standard of what is refined and 
noble, and as your aims are largely swayed by tlie influence of 
companionship, great caution should be used in selecting the 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 87 

status and quality of the social element in which you wish to 
mingle. 

No matter by what imposing name your particular set 
may be called, investigate its doings, and take care that its 
members are of that sort who will strengthen you in all good 
purposes. 

** 'Tis astonishing," says one, *' how much good goodnesss 
makes." 

Dr. Paley, the moralist and theologian, when a student at 
Cambridge wasted his time on unprofitable pleasures and pur- 
suits. 

One morning a friend came to his bedside, and in grave, ear- 
nest tones, said to him: 

*' Paley, what a fool you arel I can afford the means of 
dissipation — you are poor and cannot afford it. I could do 
nothing probably, even were I to try. You are capable of 
doing anything. I. have lain awake all night thinking about 
your folly, and I have now come solemnly to warn you — indeed, 
if you go on in this way — 1 must renounce your society alto- 
gether!" 

"VVe hardly need say that the rare candor of this noble friend 
had its desired effect. 

True, it is easier to get into the ditch than out of it, and if you 
join the jovial fellows at the club, or the ]>leasant once-in-a- 
while sociable, you must first count the cost, and be sure that 
you can afford to " pay the piper." 

There are young husbands and wives imitating the wealthy in 
giving entertainments, and going far beyond their means in try- 
ing to keep up a certain style — and hard-working girls, too, 
spend their earnings in the same ridiculous way. 

These things call loudly for reform; but we would not dis- 
courage any young, brave heart from seeking amusements 
suited to his position and purse. 

Wholesome fun is healthy for body and mind; as a nation, we 
need a little more of it — and happily we are beginning to find 
this out. 

Suitable social intercourse promotes the growth of a spirit of 
mutual sympathy and intelligence— and also of a habit of 
courtesy and refined — but if it be incongruous — not appropriate 
to the condition, a spirit of envy and uncharitableness is likely 
to find a lodgment in the soul. 

It is difficult to draw the line where pleasure should begin 
and end; but a thoughtful young person can determine how 
much time he can afford from the active duties of bread win- 
ning, and from the sleep required to keep the fire withm burn- 
ing evenly and steadily — and also what he knoios he can spare 
from that little store, put by for the wedding, and the rainy 
day. 

Feelings, thoughts and opinions change — and pass away al- 
most as quickly as the pleasures of the social hour — but what 
one, doQ8y las.ts» 



88 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 



THE BALL-ROOM. 

It is possible that a young man may attend balls night after 
night, the season through, and remain unharmed; but it is not 
probable — and certainly it will not be without a struggle. 

"A young fellow's heart," said one who knew, "should be in 
as excellent discipline as a man of war." 

Why? That he may have a true interpretation of what is 
best for the bright glad hours of his life's sweet spring, say we. 

In the ball-room — glowing with color, sparkling with light, 
and inspired with a concord of sweet sounds — a glamour is thrown 
over him, transfiguring every object, and leaving him at the 
mercy of every impulse. 

Society nowadays — ball society at least — is chiefly composed 
of common-place girls, with but few ideas, who play a little and 
sing a little, and dance a great deal — whose conversation is gar- 
rulous nonsense — and who indulge in a round of balls; and 
whose highest ambition is to shine queens of the ball-room. 

And when the frivolous creatures are so shining, we must 
admit that they are lovely. 

" If Satan be clothed like an angel of light, and every feather 
in his wing be of silver or of gold, he is the devil inside, not- 
withstanding." 

The experience of ages has taught us nothing different from 
this. 

And so, when your partner in the dance, this lovely one with 
but few ideas, is reclining upon your shoulder, and your arm is 
thrown around her so tenderly, and the glamour is thrown 
around you, so that you are tempted to whisper into her pretty 
pink ear: 

" If T leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange 
And be all to me?" 

do not— pray do not forget the after breathing of the prudent 

poet*. 

" Shall I never miss 
Home talk and blessing, and the common bliss 
That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange, 
When I look up, to drop on a new rcinge 
Of walls and floors, another home than this?" 

What men— young or old— want most in their homes, is rest 
—rest and peace— the sweet calm of an untroubled fireside. 

Is the ball-room goddess— the shining one— likely to help you 
to this? Would it not be wiser to zmi^ and see your charmer 
when divested of ball-room adornments; when the glow and 
sparkle of the hour is over, and she is in every day mood and at- 
tire; before you venture upon the important subject of mar- 
riage ? 

And if you do wait, it is altogether probable that you will be 
grateful to the prudent impulse. 

What of your own aims ? 

Surely they must carry you beyond dancing — beyond the pres- 
ent hoiu:« Can yoij fail below your idealj aiid live below it con-^ 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 89 

lentedly; aai continue to indulge night after night in a high 
pressure hfe, that you know is not for your best development ? 

Can you do this, and respect yourself — or jit least not charge 
yourself with folly ? 

Then, too, some darling project or secret ambition — some noble 
purpose might be carried to completion, with less money per- 
haps than you literally throw away. 

" For of all sad words of tongue or pen, 
The saddest are these, it might have been!'? 

The gay young wife, fond of dancing, needs a considerable 
share of sound sense to deny herself the pleasures of the ball- 
room. 

A little fun now and then is a relish; but she must consider 
that the price of a ball ticket, carriage hire, supper and gloves 
for two — to say nothing of the larger item of dress — will cause 
quite a shrinkage in a husband's means and feelings, and a 
season's expenditure in this direction will foot up a neat little 
sum. 

Then, too, the influence that this kind of sham, shallow life 
will be sure to have upon the young husband, is an extra item 
to be counted m, when considering the important question, can 
we afford it? 

There is still another important consideration— that of health; 
the day before the ball— the reaction of the day after; are not 
these lost days in the calendar? 

The body has its rights that cannot be slighted without peril 
—the body ought to be the soul's best friend— its dutiful help- 
mate. 

Then there is the baby! 

Alas! too often crying its little strength out, while mother is 
at the ball ! Or left to the mercy of a servant, with her ever 
ready store of paregoric or soothing syrup. 

Or perhaps with maternal or paternal caution, the little one 
is taken with them, and is kept all night in the dressing-room, 
exposed to draughts, the glare of lights, and chatter of voices. 

Poor babe! To be thus early and rudely initiated into its 
mother's favorite amusement. 

The maiden who is " out '^in fashionable society — who has 
exquisite delight in displaying her taste for elegant and ex- 
pensive costumes— who is conscious that she excites the envy of 
the women, and the admiration of all the gentlemen in the ball- 
room — may we venture to remind her, that youth is the time 
for culture? 

She may be beautiful; she may have that undefinable charm 
and ease of movement we call grace; but she must not ignore 
the fact that something more is expected of tbe daughter of 
position and wealth than to excel in the ball-room. 

Nowadays we expect of woman the highest cultivation; we 
expect logical faculty, exactness of thought, and sobriety of 
judgment. 

Are you, fair maiden, fully up to the standard— or even ap- 
proaching it ? 



90 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

If not, it is impossible to exaggerate the evil you are permit- 
ting yourself. 

Do not allow a passion for dancing, with its concomitant 
display of dress, to dwarf your intellect: do not let the ignoble 
pleasures of the ball-room, its flirting, feasting, and wine-sip- 
ping, wholly supersede the nobler and more rational pleasures 
of life. 

But what new departure is this, says one; is a girl to be mewed 
up and lose spirit and grace in poring over musty tomes — is she 
never to trip to '" music's merry sound?" 

No, no! dance if you must — but for sweet charity's sake, do it 
moderately y do it modestly, so that critics can find absolutely 
notiiing to condemn. 

Perhaps sober common sense needs to be tempered with a little 
nonsense, now and then — a few grains only — but not an over- 
dose. And j)erhaps something might be said in favor of balls — 
the charity balls, the help they afford to 

" The butcher, the baker, 
And the candlestick maker," 

the impetus thus given to trade, and the good cheer they bring 
to the needy. 

It must be confessed that to a dispassionate spectator, dancing 
has its absurdities; for what is more laughter- provoking than an 
awkward dancer— unconscious of being so — who bobs, ducks 
and kicks, or one who stands bolt upright, as though he had no 
joints to bend ? 

Some knowing one. in writing of the ball-room, has given us 
the following advertisement, which we copy for those it may 
concern: 

*' Lost! Somewhere between sunset and sunrise, many golden 
liours, each one worth sixty diamond minutes. No reward is 
offered, for they are gone forever." 



AMBITION. 

What is ambition ? 

The poet tells us " 'Tis a glorious cheat!'* 

" A fever at the core, 

Fatal to him who bears it— to all who ever bore." 

And the greatest of all poets declares—*' I hold ambition of so 
airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow's shadow " 

" By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, 
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?" 

It is defined as a desire of fame, honor, power and excellence. 
It denotes, more commonly, however, an inordinate desire of 
power or eminence, accompanied with an indifference as to the 
means of obtaining it. 

Ambition of some sort seems inherent in our nature, for 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 91 

" Our nature is like oil: compound us -with anything, 
Yet still we strive to swim upon the top." 

Youth is pre-eminently the time for aspirations. 

"Life is short, art is long, opportunity fleeting, experiment 
slippery., judgment difficult," said Hippocrates, five hundred 
years before the Christian era — and his utterances are just as 
true to-day. 

To you, young people, life seems one long summer day. You 
are dreamers, with longings unutterable. You cannot clothe 
with words the infinitude of restless aspirations which crowd 
your souls — and to know just when the opportunity is to be 
seized which shall lead to success— to be able to curb your in- 
ordinate ambition, it requires great wisdom— truly judgment is 
difficult. 

Ambition is allied to energy and invincible determination. 

" And but once kindled, quenchless evermore." 

*' There are no Alps " to the mind resolved to do or die— and 
in whatever phase it may come it is generally a life-work— 
whether it be to gain renown as a soldier, to win laurels as a 
statesman or orator, or by unobtrusive heroism and sacrifice; 
but in whatever channel it finds an outlet, it is untiring and in- 
domitable. 

Ambition is a virtue only when it is restrained and limited, 
and not allowed to overmaster that firm, cool judgment which 
weighs well — decides — and then acts. 

The ambition to accumulate wealth is laudable, if it is not al- 
lowed to become a ruling passion. 

To dig and delve early and late— denying one's self proper 
amusement, social converse, and the sv^^eet ministrations of 
sympathy and charity— is to lose half that makes life bear- 
able. 

It is a commendable ambition, however, that resolves upon a 
competence — provided the mind is made up as to what is a com- 
petence — but to give up the feelings and the affections of one's 
nature, in order to "heap up riches," is a dangerous under- 
taking. 

It is not improbable that the toiler and plodder may come to 
have such an ardent and unquenchable thirst for greed, as to be 
altogether unscrupulous, or else a veritable miser. 

What heart of man is proof against the seducing charms of 
popular applause ? 

To be able to picture to men their secret thoughts, to win 
their sympathies, to change their opinions and help to shape 
their course, and to charm the intellect, by thrilling and 
burning eloquence, seems indeed a noble and excusable ambi- 
tion. 

Men, too, are ambitious of power — they desire to rule. 

*' Not kings alone. 
Each villager has his ambition too." 

And unsatisfied— like Alexander — they often weep for more. 
There are names, familiar as household words, whose deeds 



93 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

have thrilled the world— Mohammed, Cromwell-, Bonaparte — and 
hundreds of other ambitious, restless spirits. But we admire 
most those whose ambition has been shown by an unselfish de-- 
votion to humanity. 

Girard, Howard, Elizabeth Fry and Florence Nightingale, are 
all glorious examples of what can be done by souls fired with a 
noble ambition — not dwarfed by exaggerated theories, or 
Utopian schemes. 

Broadcast over the world are honorable women, struggling 
for an educational equality. It is their highest ambition to ele- 
vate the educational standard of the vast army of intellectual 
workers of their own sex. God speed them I 

" In this new time, when the long prayed- for day, 
Rose-red with hope, illumines the sky." 

Earnestly then do we plead for an ambition, which, scorning 
all ignoble aims, shall strive for an "all-round education," as 
varied as are the interests and duties of life — for a thorough 
education, which shall discipline, confirm and invigorate soul, 
mind and body. 

Girls! are you aware of the possil)ilities within the reach of 
many of you ? 

Have you no ambition to have a life-purpose — to excel in 
some one thing — in art, science, or humble duty ? 

Or will you ignominiously fritter or dance away the best part 
of your lives? 

Oh! we hope better things of you. You have too much 
womanly pride — too much spirit — to suffer mankind to say: 

"Behold these shallow women, they have no knowledge as 
men have ?" 

Ambition and idleness are mortal foes — for, when once begun, 
" 'Tis always moving as the restless spheres," 
and no obstacle can hinder its progress. 

" That is a step 
On which I must fall down, or else o'erlea 
For in my way it lies." 

And then, too, danger never daunts it. 

" He is not worthy of the honeycomb, 
That shuns the hive because the bees have stings." 

And so the poets tell us that ambition is made of stern stuff, 
that never fails nor quails when once it has taken root in the 
human mind. 

How tremendous then the responsibility! 

How important that the mind should be early trained to ac- 
cept a praiseworthy ambition, which, while it honors itself , will 
also benefit mankind. 

Our young people are in advance of the last generation as 
regards advantages of every kind, and they may — if they will — 
succeed in all noble ambitions: and who can tell but that the 
most unlikely — the most unhonored of you all, may yet be- 
come 

" One of the few, immortal nameSr 
That were not born to die." 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 93 



HONESTY. 

Inasmuch as the power of habit is irresistible, how necessary 
it is for youn^ people, at the outset, to acquire a habit of accu- 
racy—and to do it on principle too — just as we cultivate any 
virtue. 

For the ^rs# steps to dishonesty are imperceptible; we uncon- 
sciously exaggerate, we deceive ourselves even, and all for lack 
of an honest purpose; for an educated honest purpose will make 
us careful of speech; we muster our wits, and train our thoughts 
to accuracy, and honest action is the outgrowth of our en- 
deavor. 

Accuracy! What a rare acquisition this is! 

But how very few young people think of it in this way — how 
very few are willing to submit to severe self-discipline in order 
to acquire a habit that shall influence their entire future. 

For, if so disciplined, a young man — or woman — is clothed in 
the armor of a reserve power, ready to meet temptation. 

There seems to be an inherent propensity to dishonesty in 
some, and if this be really true, this severe self- discipline seems 
doubly necessary. 

All this is very prosy and uninteresting for youngsters, says 
one. 

Of course it is, if you wish to grow, only, like Topsy; but if 
you wish to think as you grow, and to be honorable men and 
women, pray heed the advice. 

Honesty is not altogether negative. It is an active principle. 
Even if you do not break the eighth commandment and actually 
steal, it does not necessarily follow that you are that "noblest 
work of God, an honest man." Honesty includes sincerity, and 
upright dealing also, while dishonesty ranges from the white 
lies of society to the most gigantic fraud. 

"A man," says Emerson, "is like a bit of Labrador spar, 
which has no luster as you turn it in your hand, until you come 
to a particular angle, then it shows deep and beautiful colors." 

A thoroughly honest man is straightforward — in whatever 
light or circumstance he may be placed — and there's a deal of 
meaning in the term. There is no " beating around the bush," 
no trickery, sharp practice, nor shams, and the more integrity 
he has the less he affects it, and he will not require or even ask 
his fellow to do anything that he scorns or is afraid to do him- 
self. 

Knavery bends where honesty is firm and upright, and there 
are innumerable degrees in cheating. 

It is not honest to take a mean advantage in bargaining — re- 
presenting as sound that which you know is unsound — nor to 
promise that Vv'hich you have no intention of performing, nor 
to incur debts with no prospect of paying them. 

It is not houest to defraud your employer of his just service, 
by waste of time or material, nor yet to refuse to defend the 
reputation of a friend unjustly assailed, and are you strictly 



94 LETTERS TO ^^OUNO PEOPLE, 



'i 



honest, if, while professing friendship, you wantonly repeat any- 
thing to his detriment ? 
Surely, these are not romantic notions of integrity! 
Think, too, of the many devices to deceive, the poisons and 
impure substances mixed with our food, our bread, tea, coffee, 
and sugar; even drugs are so adulterated that physicians can 
have no confidence in their efficacy; then the short weights, and 
the " best on top." Truly this is an age of shams! 

As an excuse for ways that are dark and crooked, there is the 
old flimsy plea that " honesty is not profitable," and perhaps 
somie of you may say. Everyone does it — why cannot we? 
Why ? Because it is not honest! 

Idleness leads to disiionesty— pleasure must be had, and pleas- 
ure demands mone}'' — and so the young man borrows from his 
employer's cash-box. Of course he intends to replace it — alas! 
he never does; he reasons that he might as well be punished 
" for a sheep as for a lamb," therefore, as more money is needed, 
more is taken — and so he goes on to the bitter end. 

Better to have taken the honest path of duty— "duty before 
pleasure." 

" He that walks it, only thirsting 
For the right, and learns to deaden 
Love of self; before his journey closes 
He shall find stubborn thistles bursting 
Into glossy purples, which out-redden 
All voluptuous garden roses!" 

Perhaps many of you are anticipating with impatience that 
blessed time when you can engage in brilliant speculations — in 
political life — or in the showy extravagances of fashionable so- 
ciety. 

But have a care! — if you reach them your feet will stand 
in slippery places — and our word for it, these opportunities 
will be crucial, however flattering they may now appear. 

We rejoice that honesty is not a relic of the past — and that it 
is not an unattainable virtue. 

There are glorious examples on record of our young, noble 
seekers and strivers after what is highest. 

Carlyle says of John Sterling, "A man of perfect veracity 
in thought, word and deed." 

Think of it, what a eulogium! 

" Integrity had ripened with him into chivalrous generosity 
— there was no guile or baseness found in him." 

And there are thousands of other souls to-day, just as beauti- 
ful—a vast army indeed, moving on to Perfection. 

Will you join them? 

Then begin note — in your fresh glorious youth — and never put 
off that armor of reserve power of which we have spoken, that 
you will have gathered and stored, as the years roll swiftly by. 

Think of the scores, who after more than half a century of 
usefulness, and of honorable and respectable living, at last, 
under the terrible pressure of sudden temptation to dishonesty, 
have ignominiously fallen. 

*' liet him that standeth, take h^ed les^ bo fa,U*" 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, S5 

" Does the road wind up-hill all the way? 
Yes: to the very end. 
Will the day's journey take the whole long da 
From morn till night, my friend." 



HEALTH. 

" Life without health is useless," says an Asiatic proverb. 
Therefore, oh, languid butterfly-queens of fashion, if you 
would not be ciphers, such as many men ought not to tolerate, 
give up dawdling over fancy work and French novels, and be- 
gin betimes the study of physiology and hygiene, for the knowl- 
edge of them is an indispensable part of a rational education — 
indeed, they have already taken their place in the educational 
curriculum provided for young women. 

Do not be alarmed! It is not necessary to aim for a degree in 
medicine, nor to be crammed with bewildering details, or isms, 
or pathies. 

"How to live," says Mr. Herbert Spencer, "is the essential 
question — in what way to treat the body — how to live com- 
pletely. As vigorous health and the mental elasticity which ac- 
companies it are indisputably large elements of human happi- 
ness, the teaching how to maintain them yields in importance 
to scarcely any other teaching." 

Mother! That most precious word in our language. 
The young mother is sure to lavish sympathy and caressing 
love upon her child, but a tliinking love also is demanded. 
Mrs. Browning says: 

" Women know 
How to rear up children ; (to be just) 
They. know a simple, merry, tender knack 
Of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes, 
And stringing pretty words that make no sense, 
And kissing full sense into empty words." 

But is this all? The mother's self-sacrifice knows no limit; 
yet, says Mr. Spencer. " she is profoundly ignorant of the phe- 
nomena -,vith which she has to deal! 

" Here are the indisputable facts: that the development of 
children in mind and body follows certain laws— that unless 
these laws are in some degree conformed to, there must result 
serious physical and mental defects— and that only when they 
are completely conformed to can a perfect maturity be reached." 

Then, surely, every young mother in our land ought to know 
what these laws of iiealth a»'e! 

Every disease comes by the great law of cause and effect. 
Nothing comes by chance. Contagions, epidemics, malarias, 
nervousness, and a myriad woes may be guarded against by 
scientific Icnowledge — by the study of that wonderful machine, 
the human body. 

In homely phrase, " An ounce of prevention is worth a pound 
of cure," and " there is no disease so dangerous as a wact of 



96 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

common sense." And so, girls, if you desire longevity, and 
care to be beautiful, you cannot begin too soon to acquire gen- 
eral knowledge of hygiene. 

Mayhap we can give you a few hints which may urge you to 
look into the subject more closely. 

Diet, sleep, air, sunlight and exercise are each necessary to 
even tolerable health. 

The glorious sunlightl Imagine the light of the sun put out 
forever! Universal death would be the result! 

Let us then appreciate the cheering, life-giving sunshine too 
much to adopt the American liking for darkened living-rooms. 

In regard to the advantages of the blessed sunlight, we quote 
from Dr. Winslow: " In the spring, a potato was left behind in 
a cellar which had only a small aperture at the upper part of 
one of its sides. The potato, which was in the opposite corner, 
shot out a runner, which first ran twenty feet along the ground, 
then crept up along the wall, and so through the opening by 
which light v^'as admitted." 

We can take a hint about health, then, even from a potato. 

Sleep is the thermometer of health. Sleep is food and rest, 
although the heart still beats with its rhythmical pulsations, and 
the unnumbered chemical processes are still going on— the laws 
of sleep are v^-ell wortliy of careful study. 

Eating and drinking! According to Diogenes, *' the best time 
for eating is, for a rich man, when he can get an appetite, and 
for a poor man when he can get food." But of course habit and 
good health exercise the greatest influence in regulating the ap- 
petite. 

The Greenlanders consume incredible quantities of train-oil 
and blubber; yet we Americans are said to be the greatest eaters 
in the world — and worse, we bolt our food rather than chew it, 
and wash it down with copious draughts of ice- water. 

Is it strange, tlien, tliat we are a horribly dyspeptic nation ? 

We have long been ridiculed for our lank, cadaverous appear- 
ance, but happily our adipose tissue has increased with our hy- 
gienic knowledge. 

It has been cynically said, too, that we owe our sallow com- 
plexions to excessive tea-drmkmg! 

There are conflicting opinions as to the healthfulness of the 
cheering cup, but truly, we are lovers of good, strong tea. 

As early as 1678 one Cornelio Bonteke wrote a book on tea, 
which was translated into many languages, and quoted as the 
highest autliority. He pronounced tea to be the infallible cause 
of health if mankind could be induced to drink a sufficient quan- 
tity of it — say, tvi-o hundred cups daily! 

This recommendation to inebriety, however, caused him to be 
bandied without gloves by severe critics, inasmuch as they 
affirmed that his judgment was rewarded by the liberality of the 
Dutch East India Tea Company. 

Whether tobacco is injurious to health is a debatable question. 
It is claimed to iiave a soothing influence, and to induce a phil- 
osophical turn of mind. 

As a rule, old people desire to give it up, but cannot— without 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 97 

bringing on a train of evil consequences— and the majority re- 
pent of ever having used it. 

To breathe well requires as much study as to eat well. 

Ventilation ought to be thoroughly understood in all its mani- 
fold relations by all young people who wish to follow the best 
methods of hygiene. 

Amid the whirl of our nervous high-pressure life, brain work- 
ers are in danger of starving for want of oxygen — and it is an 
error to suppose that gymnastics, billiards, or any kind of indoor 
exercise, can compensate for lack of outdoor air, and sunlight 
—and those youngsters who turn night into day break a hygienic 
commandment. 

Young people are apt to be careless about getting the feet wet 
—sitting in draughts — and in avoiding sudden transitions from 
heat to cold and vice versa — and also in suiting their clothing to 
the weather. 

All these things seem trifles, and perhaps elicit a contemptuous 
pshaw I--but all the same, the consequences are sometimes tre- 
mendous. 

Pain is really a merciful provision of nature to warn us — it is 
a danger signal. 

So much of disease is inherited — running through families — 
that it is wise — bein'T forewarned — to prepare to fight it scien- 
tifically. This is being done successfully every day. 

If we are so fortunate as to possess a healthy organization, we 
can be of service to the sick and suffering — although but few 
have a genius for nursing. 

Of course much can be done by mere force of will — but all are 
not blessed with the same strength of nerve. 

It is peculiarly a young woman's province to minister in the 
sick-room. Her deft fingers with soft touches, her light foot- 
fall, and ever-ready sympathy — all fit her for the work — but of 
all hindering nuisances, there is none worse than a woman who, 
when her services are most needed, begins to scream, or awk- 
wardly gets in the way, or is unable to answer a sensible ques- 
tion — who loses her wits, or faints at the most critical moment. 

And often, too, when the sufferer is the one most dear to her. 

Girls, by studying physiology and hygiene, and using your 
knowledge faithfully, the next generation will be healthier, and 
consequently happier than the present one. 

Doubtless many of you weary and over- tasked ones are look- 
ing longingly toward that stretch of sand bordering restless old 
ocean — gay delightful Coney Island — which will soon again be 
thronged with pilgrims worshiping the ever-living Hygeia, the 
goddess of health. 

If you would have her healing kisses— leaving your cheeks 
rosy red, be moderate in eating, drinking, and walking, and 
bathe prudently. 

Fifteen or twenty minutes at most, for a tumble in the waves, 
is all that she will allow you — but if there be the least chilliness, 
attempt it again at your peril! 

Or, perhaps, some prefer tent-life, or the mountain air — to 



98 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

find tnat fatigue in climbing is grateful because it provokes 
appetite and courts dreamless, refreshing sleep. 

Rest, cool air and balmy eleepl OhI the glorious summer 
holidays — are they not medicinal! 

Suppose you were to devote half an hour each day in gaining 
some knowledge of the structure of the human body — especially 
of that wonderful object, the brain, through which the soul is 
manifested — and aleo of a general knowledge of medical science ? 

You would then work more intelligently and successfully for 
yourselves and others — besides forming a habit of looking at 
questions from a scientific point of view — you have no idea now, 
what an incalculable advantage this would be. 

One short half hourl Will you try it? ' 



COURAGE. 

There is a great deal of latent power in that grand instru- 
ment, the human soul, and not the least is the steady, firm 
ring of true courage. 

The animal instinct to resist when cornered is common, but 
genuine courage is rare — so rare that men esteem it highly as 
one of the cardinal virtues. They know that the courageous 
soul possesses wilJ-power which may be depended upon in 
emergency, self-possession, and the choice quality of unselfish- 
ness, and they admire it accordingly. 

Rage will make a coward fight; but fury is not courage. 

Brag and bully too are but names for cowardice, and their 
pretensions and loud declamation deceive no one. 

" That's a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of 
a lion I" 

" The brave man is not he who feels no fear, 
For that were stupid and irrational; 
But he whose noble soul its fear subdues, 
And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from." 

It is well for young people to consider that no man is likely 
to be a hero who has not been self-denying in small things — he 
must first fight his own battle against himself. 

And what a conquest this conquering self is! 

Leading sometimes to the very shadow of death I 

Difficult duty is never far off. You can all have a chance to 
fight, if you so elect. Each day there is something to be sur- 
mounted — infinitesimal, perhaps, to the vision; but moment- 
ous in its consequences, 

Think'st thou there dwells no courage but in breasts 
That set their mail against the ringing spears, 
When helmets are struck down? Thou little knowest 
Of nature's marvels." 

No, no! It ofteu requires greater courage not to do, than 
to do. 
*' No sermon can be more eloquent than a heroic life." Single 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 99 

acts of impulsive bravery thrill us u^ith admiration; but the 
firm, persistoDt effort against odds, the long, weary struggle in 
the performance of known duty without hope of reward, the 
iron will and stern resolution— these excite awe and rever- 
ence. 

*' Be sure that you are right, and then go ahead!" 

But it sometimes requires no little courage to do this. 

Call to mind the heroes of history and stor3\ Those who 
have borne the sneers and taunts of their fellows for knowl- 
edge's sake; true patriots who have cheerfully given up home, 
and life too, for their country's sake: brave souls who have en- 
countered fire and flood and hardships untold for humanity's 
sake; and then the long roll of martyrs who have smiled amidst 
flames and torture — heroic spirits all, who, being dead, yet speak 
to us. 

" Be sure that you are right, then go ahead." 

There are degrees of courage. Fool hardiness is not a virtue, 
for life and limb are too valuable to be risked rashly! 

'■ ' A valiant man 
Ought not to undergo or tempt a danger, 
But worthily, and by selected ways, 
He undertakes by reason, not by chance." 

The worshiped hero of the hour seems to be inspired with an 
irresistible impulse of courage, and there are some natures con- 
stitutionally courageous, equal to any emergency, who never 
know fear, and in every school there are fighting boys, too, 
always ready with fisticuffs. 

Emerson tells us that " knov^-ledge is the antidote to fear. 
The child is as much in danger from a staircase or a firegrate 
as a soldier from a cannon or ambush. Each is liable to panic, 
which is the terror of ignorance." 

"It is the groom who knows the jumping horse well who can 
safely ride him. It is the veteran soldier who, seeing the flash 
of the cannon, can step aside from the path of danger." 

So we find that use and familiarity with danger make mei? 
courageous. 

It is generally supposed that courage is wholly a man's attri- 
bute. Do not believe it, girls I 

In fact, courage has no sex. It but takes a different form of 
expression. 

Timid women have not been frightened out of their faith by 
the flaming fagot, nor lost their wits in the hour of peril, nor 
have they ignominiously fled at the call of duty. History fur- 
nishes abundant proof of this, and to-day there are thousands 
of womanly hearts beating to the true rythm of courageous 
endurance. 

There are humble homes, too, where women perform — in ob- 
scurity — heroic, unselfish deeds, which, if done by men, would 
crown them with fame and honor; and men seem to expect such 
renunciation. 

Women lack physical courage because they have not been 
trained to it, although there are numberless instances of in- 



100 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

trepid daring, where they have risked life for humanity; out 
they are pre-eminently courageous in suffering. 

Brute-force, happily, is not a necessity, nor knowledge only ; 
but love is peculiarly the gift and grace of woman, aud she is 
called every day to take up new burdens of anxiety and sorrow, 
and this self-abnegation brings out her finest qualities and 
elevates her into a heroine. 

It requires considerable moral courage for woman to set her 
face as a flmt against wrong-doing in high places. 

Was there not a species of heroism in giving to the wide 
world " Uncle Tom's Cabin " in opposition to popular preju- 
dice? 

And are there not other exceptional women to-day showing 
rare courage, well worthy of imitation, by reproving the erring 
and befriending the penitent, and, as Carlyle has it, *' with ever- 
new nobleness of valiant effort?" 

Sudden demands will come to you, young woman, to test 
your courage severelj*. To stand up for the right, to express 
opinions in spite of ridicule, and to withhold your society and 
favor from all those young men who make vice seem respect- 
able! And possibly there may be a young woman who has no 
physical strength for deeds of daring, who would shrink from 
danger with natural timidity and shriek at the sudden appear- 
ance of a mouse; nevertheless, let such a one take heart, for 
you can have courage to — 

'' Be good^ sweet maiden, and let who will be clever; 
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long, 
And so make life, death and that vast forever, 
One grand sweet song." 



GOSSIP. 

It has been sarcastically said, " if, as we are told, there was 
silence in heaven for the space of half an hour, we very natur- 
ally conclude that there could have been no women there." 

And one has said to that, "some men envelop themselves in 
such an impenetrable cloak of silence, that the tongue will afford 
us no symptoms of the temperament of the mind. Such taci- 
turnity indeed, is wise — if they are fools — but foolish if they are 
wise — and the only method to form a judgment of these mutes, 
is narrowly to observe when, where, and how they smilel" 

Undoubtedly women do possess the "gift of gab "—and this 
satire is an unintended compliment— for sometimes silence is 
golden. 

But it is quite beyond a woman's ken to know just when and 
where to hold her tongue. 

Not one of you girls will admit that it requires considerable 
self-restraint not to relish a bit of genuine gossip — served as an 
artist only can serve it— with freshness, sparkle, spice and 
point. 

Those of vou whoso lives are bounded by narrow interests — 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, lOl 

who are too ignorant to discuss weighty questions— become 
limited to small considerations; you talli of people, rather than 
of things— in a word, you gossip. 

Perhaps you say, ''what if this thing were so?" Then the 
leaven begins to work — another person thinks it is so — and the 
evil is done. 

*'The flakes of snow fall one by one, unperceived; no one 
flake produces any sensible change." So grows gossip — grows 
by indulgence, and becomes a habit; very soon it outgrows 
tittle-tattle, and tiegenerates into censoriousness, into a habit of 
indiscriminate faultfinding; then secret calumny follows, and 
that pest of society — the arrow flying in the dark, which we 
call sjander. 

Truly, a train of formidable evils, growing out of a little 
social small talk and harmless gossip! 

Some one has very prettily said that, "words are the wings of 
action," but what of the language of pantomime — the shrugs, 
hums, and " ha's " — the nods and winks? 

Are they not all acts without words, which stab just as surely 
and cruelly ? 

No matter whether there be cause for censure or not, it's all 
the same to the inventive genius of the professional gossip. 

Says Montaigne, " Give me the greatest and most unblemished 
action that ever the day beheld, and I will contrive a hundred 
plausible drifts and ends to obscure it;" and he was a keen 
observer of human nature. 

No, rot one escapes; our best motives and acts are sometimes 
maligned, and our worst praised. 

Let a couple of gossips but commence upon one's infirmities 
only, and where will they end ? For their tongues will not 
be touched with the oil of healing, but with vinegar; and 
much of their talk will be purely self-evolved. 

They forget that prudence is a lovely quality, or that "char- 
ity thinketh no evil,' and that a whisper, or a look even, may 
injure a reputation; they forget too the amenities— nay, the 
decencies of life, and altogether ignore the golden rule. 

Circles interested in those solid treasures of the mind, facts, 
whether literary, scientific, or artistic, have no time or inclina- 
tion for gossip — they believe with Coleridge that there is noth- 
ing insignificant, nothing, and they know that gossip injures 
the retailers. 

To be able to hold one's tongue is a fine art. 

To know exactly when another word would be too much — to 
know when silence becomes an injustice to the accused — to 
know how not to get into a scrape by surmising mean things, 
and imputing unworthy motives to the absent, and risking their 
being repeated to them, when the telling would entail remorse 
till the day of one's death — to know how to avoid all this is a 
fine art, for circumstances often occur when one is forced to 
listen to, and to be cleverly questioned by Madam Pry. 

Oil! it requires more prudence and philosophy than most 
maidens possess— or young men either — to keep proper silence 
when " silence is golden." 



108 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE^ 

Mi „ our own business! 

Would not this be an appropriate motto for many a parlor? 

And then, too, if we really have self-denial "-'nough not to in- 
dulge in tittle-tattle — or worse — let us not have itching ears, 
like the old woman who was always *' harking," lest a word of 
gossip shoald escape her. 

We constantly see pretty girls with a faculty for rational pur- 
suits, gadding about, wickedly retailing gossip, instead of mak- 
ing compassionate allowance for the failings of their own " set " 
and sex— not considering that noble thoughts or noble errands 
are the best. 

Mrs. Jameson has translated a Persian fable for our instruc- 
tion, to the effect that in a market-place of an Eastern city a 
dead dog was lying. 

One passing by, said scornfully: 

" How long shall this foul beast offend our sight?'' 

" Look at his torn hide," said another; '* one could not even 
cut a shoe out of it." 

" And his ears are all torn and bleeding," said still another. 
*' No doubt he has been hung for thieving.." 

But Jesus passing also, looked compassionately upon the dead 
creature, and said, " Pearls are not equal to the whiteness of 
his teeth." 

Then the people, amazed, cried out: " This must be Jesus of 
Nazareth, for ouly He could find something to pity and approve 
even in a dead dog;^' and being ashamed they went on their way. 

Oh! the rarity of Christian charity! 

But let us see what our own Lon^ellow says about it: 

" The little I have seen of the world, and know of the history 
of mankind, teaches me to look upon the errors of others in sor- 
row, not anger. 

" When I take the history of one poor heart that has sinned 
and suffered, and represent to myself the struggles and tempta- 
tions it has passed, the brief pulsations of joy, the feverish in- 
quietude of hope and fear, the tears of regret, the feebleness of 
purpose, the pressure of want, the desertion of friends, the scorn 
of the world, that has little charit3% the desolation of the soul's 
. sanctuary, and threatening voices from within, I would fain 
leave the erring soul of my fellow-man with Him from whose 
hands it came." 

Is not this a noble rebuke to all gossips ? 

The question was asked long ago, " When will talkers refrain 
from evil-speaking?" 

The answer is just as pertinent to-day: 

•" When listeners refrain from evil-hearing 
And w^e may add, when gossips cease, 

„ " To spy 

Each httle failing with mahgnant eye; 

Or chatter ■vyith incessancy of tongue. 
Careless if kind or cruel, right or wrop 



LETTERS TO YOU NO PEOPLE. lOd 



PHYSICAL BEAUTY. 

One has said that " no woiiian can s.-iy truthfully that she 
does not care whether she is pretty or not." Every woman does 
care. The immutable laws of her being liave made physical at- 
tractiveness as much a natural glory to her as strength is to a 
man. It is not a sin or folly to long to be lovely. 

Yes, women do incline to beauty in some form, and they need 
only favorable circumstances and surroundings to develop it; 
not always perhaps in its highest forms, but it is certain that 
ease or culture 

" Doth even beauty beautify." 

Over-work and ill-health create angles, and angles, says N. 
P. Willis, " are detrimental to beauty." 

What is beauty, is a nice question — for tastes differ — but why 
any one should not be delighted with beauty is a question none 
but a blind man need ask, since any beautiful object so attracts 
us all, that it is not in our power not to be pleased with it. 

We judge of beauty chiefly by comparison; for instance, we 
need but to glance at discolored, uneven teeth to note the con- 
trast between them and a set of small, regular, pearly ones; in- 
deed a cleanly mouthful of white teeth has a wholesome attract- 
iveness, and no amount of personal charms will compensate for 
an offensive breath. 

True beauty is that which is most common to all refined na- 
tions, though each individual has his ideal, or, as the saying is, 
" every eye forms a beauty," but we suppose the Greek type ap- 
proaches nearest to the universal idea of it. 

Beauty, however, does not consist in any single feature, but 
in harmony, symmetry, grace of movement, complexion and 
expression; and that cast of features which expresses sweetness 
or amiability is pleasing to all, and is generally conceded to be 
beautiful; for we can not only see, hut feel expression. 

We are told, " the criterion of tnie beauty is, that it increases 
on examination — of false, that it lessens. There is something, 
therefore, in true beauty that corresponds with right reason, 
and is not merely the creature of fancy." 

The highest type of feminine beauty is fair, not dark — fine 
eyes do not constitute it — although they are an important part 
of it; indeed there are various opinions as to which feature gives 
the expression of the countenance; some think that the soul 
peeps out from the eyes, while others will have it that it is the 
mouth which decides it. 

But there is no diversity of opinion when there is harmony 
and symmetry in features and soul pervading the whole; in- 
stinctively we recognise beauty with a sort of wonder, as worthy 
of all admiration. 

Aristotle tells us that, " Beauty is better than all the letters of 
recommendation in tlie world," and we are told also, 

' The beautiful are never desolate, '■• " 
Some one always loves them.' V 



104 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

And whatever cynics may say to the contrary, beauty is an 
acknowledged power. 

Physical beauty has been made the subject of song and story 
from time immemorial — what have not the poets said of it, 
either in praise or warning ? 

"All orators are dumb when beauty pleadeth," 

says Shakespeare— and how extravagantly too he extols a beau- 
tiful woman: 

"'Oh! She doth teach the torches to burn brightl 
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night 
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear." 

And another, with a poet's license, sings: 

" Her cheek had the pale tint 
Of sea-shells, the world's sweetest tint, as though 
She lived, one half might deem, on roses sopp'd 
In silver dew." 

But we all agree with Byron, when he says: 

" Who hath not proved how feebly words essay 
- To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray?" 

Joshua Reynolds must have been dazzled at times while 
painting the famous beauties of his day; and Michael Angelo 
and Raphael, in painting angels, could not have drawn wholly 
from imagination, but must have had human feminine models. 

We were told by a young woman — herself a charming speci- 
men of womankind — that having attended the opera in all the 
principal cities of the Old World, she had seen no more beautiful 
women than at the Academy of Music in New York. 

Why should she not? for we Americans are cosmopolitan — a 
delightful mixture of many races — and there is no type of face 
or form but is represented here. 

Time was when tlie French excelled us in taste, in the art of 
adorning beauty becomingly, but, profiting by their instruc- 
tions, we no longer need them= 

The fact is, our young women are naturally refined, and 
their artistic perceptions are keen, and moreover, are being 
carefully cultivated; besides they possess tact, and style — what 
the French call c/iic— which is a subtle element of beauty. 

American beauty presents, and obtains high claims to univer- 
sal recognition; and we are told by a well-known writer that, 
" A pretty New York woman in all the glory of a satisfactory 
toilet, under the soft sky, or the blaze of chandeliers, is as nearly 
an incarnate poem as Nature appears willing to create." 

One has but to stroll tliroua:h Fifth Avenue on a bright day to 
see living pictures which fully equal those of the old masters. 
There we may see copies of golden -haired Venetians, or lus- 
trous-eyed brunettes, with the warm blood speaking eloquently 
in their olive cheeks, or tender^ sweet faces, such as Vandyke 
loved to paint. 

Place aux dames! 

Americans are no longer a race of invalids — the scraggy 
women of a new republic! 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 105 

With our increased knowledge of hygiene, and the facilities 
which wealth affords for ease and culture, our girls are steadily 
improving in physique and manners. 

Of good-looking, pretty, and handsome girls, we have plenty, 
but really beautiful women are rare in any country — like Ma- 
dame Recamier, for instance, whose i-emarltable beauty was be- 
yond dispute. 

As all cannot be beautiful; or even handsome, what then are 
the plain and ugly to do ? 

It has been said that *- no woman believes herself decidedly 
homely." 

The self-deception is natural, for there are some most charming 
women without a particle of beauty; fortunately, physical 
beauty is not an absolute necessity. 

Plain girls almost invariably possess some charm — a grace of 
manner, or a sweet voice which compensates for beauty — it may 
be a speaking eye, or it may be a shapely hand or foot, or a fine 
form," but every one has a special magnetism; indeed, as a rule,, 
all fresh young womanhood is charming. 

Therefore, girls, be not disheartened! Perhaps we do not 
know or appreciate your particular charm— others do, and will 
value you accordingly — besides in affairs of the heart, the one 
beloved is beautiful. 

Alas! beauty must fade, and when most perfect it changes 
most perceptibly, though it often happens that the noble beauty 
of the "auld wife," even after the lapse of many years, under 
favorable circumstances, is mellowed and deepened by time, 
but this is unusual, for time makes sad havoc with a beautiful, 
face. 

Gone forever is the rose-bloom, and wrinkles usurp dimples— 
more's the pity — and deep lines furrow the forehead. 

But the spiritual beauty that has grown under the discipline 
of life, often replaces all this, and there is compensation; and 
then too the "auld wife" and her " gude man" grow old to- 
gether, and their eyes and minds are gradually accustomed to 
the change. 

" No woman need be ugly," writes one skilled in the art of 
beauty, " if she knows her points — and points of attractiveness 
every woman has. But while I advise all women to become as 
intelligent and clever as they can, whether they be plain or 
pretty i still 1 wish that vanity and the study of 'points' were 
made more an acknowledged and honorable art than it is, by all 
those to whom God hath given eyes and an intelligent brain." 

A word or two more in conclusion. Please do not presume 
upon your good looks; for what can be more pitiable than a 
vain, frivolous, silly young woman, even if she happen to be as 
lovely as Aphrodite. 

Surely, there is no more certain way of committing moral 
suicide than by falling in love with ourselves! 



106 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 



CHARACTER. 

Did you ever see two faces exactlv alike? 

Just so unlike are the characters of men and vromen, 

" There are four classes of men in the world,*' says a writer; 
"first, those whom every one would wish to talk to — and of 
whom everj^one does talk of — these are that small minority that 
constitute the ^7'ea^. 

" Secondly, those w^hom no one wishes to talk to — and whom 
no one does talk of — these are that vast majority that constitute 
the little. 

" The third class is made up of those whom everybody talks 
of, but nobody talks to; these constitute the knaves. 

*' The fourth is composed of those whom everybody talks to, 
but whom nobody talks of, and these constitute the fools." 

To which of these classes, young men and maidens, would 
you rather belong? 

You cannot all expect to be great, but there is a happy me- 
dium — the good character — and you can attain to that; yet, 

" Be not simply good, but good for something." 

Not by accident,^or by fits and starts — but by regular, judicious 
and permanent habits, can a young person hope to attain to a 
well-rounded characterl 

As the word character means "a mark made by cutting," you 
can see that its peculiar qualities are formed by habits, and 
are not of slow growth — you cannot force it as you do fruit. 

Moreover, it is a jewel to be polished, and set so as to show 
itself to the best advantage. 

You hear a great deal about opportunities, starting points, 
chances, etc. These are no doubt desirable — and are limited to 
the few — but after all, it is promptitude in duty \vh\Q,h brings 
success. 

And are not diligence, patience, and a lofty aim the condi- 
tions of success? 

*' The common problem, yours, mine, every one's, 
J Is not to fancy what were fair in life. 

Provided it could be: hufc finding first 
What may be, then find how to make It fair. 
Up to our means — a very different thing!" 

"Up to our means?" Locke says that "nobody knows the 
strength of his mind, and the force of steady, regular applica- 
tion till he has tried;" and if, as we are told, at twenty years of 
age the ivill reigns, can't you have it all your own way? 

What discipline does for a *' man of war," it will do for you. 
Train a young tree, straight or crooked, so it will grow. 

"So actions, locks, words, steps, form the alphabet by which 
you may spell character." 

"Up to our means?" Yes! It is enough that we perform 
the work that is fitly and pro])erly ours. 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. lo. 

" Not as althou2:h wo thongbt we could do much, 
Or claimed large sphere of action for ourselves; 
Not in this thought— since rather be it ours 
Both thine and mine, to ask for that calm frame 
Of spirit, in which we know and deeply feel 
How little we can do, and yet do that.'''' 

" How little we can do, ayid yet do that.'''' 

And this doing our best— this abiding sense of duty, raak 
character harmonious. 

There is a great diversity of character in the world, and human 
nature has many inconsistencies, but character must be safely 
calcidated upon, or it will be worth little. 

Now, true it is, that ''more people know Tom Fool, than 
Tom Fool knows," or that, " we can't see ourselves as others see 
us." 

There are the obstinate, dogmatic characters— Sir Oracles— 
not to be taught, whom we call "pig-headed," because when 
you wMsh them to go one way, you must drive them the other. 

Then there are tlie chronic fault-finders— male and female- 
there is with them no good-natured slipping over faults, no 
smoothing away of difficulties, and so escaping the evils which 
are bad enough at best. 

Mistakes are serious faults, and peccadilloes, crimes; and their 
unfortunate victims are made to eat humble pie, and are at 
length worried into believing themselves utterly depraved. 

Then the ill-tempered, scolding men and women— how they 
fret and fume at every trifling annoyance— home-life is rendered 
a burden by their perpetual nagging. They dig the graves of 
their own happiness, and then complain because they fail to win 
love or esteem. 

In the olden time it was lawful to pelt and half drown a 
shrew— perhaps on the principle that grace comes by tribula- 
tioue 

Conceited characters admire themselves immensely, and ex- 
pect every one else to do the same; they forget that sometimes 
bonnets cover brains > 

Of them we can sorrowfully say: 

** Fools rush in where angels fear to tread." 

The Uriah Keeps, and the Ciphers! What a decided contrast 
they present, but the world can afford to do without them. 
Then there is the vain man Shakespeare wrote of: 

" The soul of this man is his clothes." 
And the silly shallow-pate. 

*' His talk is like a stream which runs 

With rapid change from rocks to roses; 
He slips from politics to puns, 

Passes from Mahomet to Moses; 
Beginning with the laws that keep 

The planets in their radiant courses, 
And ending with some precept deep 

For dressing eels or shoeing horses." _ ' 



lOS LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

As woman is proverbially unselfish, we pass on to say to the 
young men, that those infinitesimal littlenesses who worship 
great I, and who expect the best of everything — and the largest 
piece too, are universally conceded to be very disagreeable 
characters. 

And thus we might go on enumerating — for these are not 
imaginary characters, but flesh and blood people. We have all 
seen and known them, and perhaps have suffered by them. 

" Take your friends as you find them, and love them in spite 
of their faults." *' Best men are molded out of faults." Cer- 
tainly we do not expect our young men to be perfect — and we 
have good authority for saying that woman is 

" No angel, but a dearer being, all dipt 
In angel instinct " 

Nowadays young folk become so familiar with folly and 
crime, that they are in danger of overlooking the example of 
those who have achieved noble deeds — whose characters shine, 
not with a borrowed luster, but with unselfish devotion to 
humanity. 

Can I do anything for my less fortunate sisters? was the 
question that Emily Faithfull, Sister Dora, and a host of others 
iiave asked — and answered. 

We recommend our girls to read — thoughtfully — the life of 
Elizabeth Fry. 

It is not given to all to become active philanthropists, but we 
can all of us imitate the virtues of which she was so beautiful 
an example. 

Characterl "Nature hath framed strange fellows in her 
time!" 

We suppose the most agreeable character in a com])anion 
would be " a simple, frank man, without any high pretensions 
to an oppressive greatness; one who loves life, and understands 
the use of it; obliging, alike at all hours; above all, of a golden 
temper, and steadfast as an anchor "— ^although he may not 
happen to be a great genius, a brilliant wit, pr a profound 
thinker. 



FRIENDSHIP.^ 

The next time you visit Coney Island -throw a stone far out 
into the ocean. Then observe the ripples and circles made in 
the water, widening and spreading, until the last reaches the 
shore— and as you watch them, reflect that just^such an impetus 
and influence you receive from your friends. ' 

In a greater degree, too, than you imagine. 

Even powerful enouj^h, sometimes, to counteract the wise 
counsels and example of the home. 

Yea, your entire life may be shaped and molded by the teach* 
ings and conduct of your most intimate friends. 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, lu^ 

Companionship Feems to young people almost as much of a 
Decessity as bread and butter. 

Friend and companion, however, are terms often used as 
meaning the same. This is a mistake, for one may have many 
companions, but how few ever meet with real friends. And 
sometimes, too, a very agreeable companion may prove a 
treacherous, dangerous friend. Have you not found it so? 

Perhaps some of you have passed through the enthusiastic 
school-girl phase of friendsliip, and the old fellosvship of " kin- 
dred a\inds " has been forgotten amid new scenes and connec- 
tions. Happy for you, if in its departure it has left no confi- 
dences open to ridiculel 

How popular some young people are! They seem to have an 
aptitude for friendship. 

It is not easy to secure friends of the right sort, although 
young men are apt to think themselves capable of the most ex- 
alted and disinterested friendsnip; probably this is because they 
ure not aware of its requirements. 

Much, however, can be done by a courteous manner. It is a 
grace that costs nothing, and yet it is most profitable, for no 
rhetoric has more force than an affable deportment. It will 
win confidence and keep it, it will enforce what is right and ex- 
cuse what is wrong. 

ISIo two people are uniformly alike. We find that the wisest 
are at times weak, and that the worst sometimes ])erform good 
acts: therefore we must judge by general character, and not be 
too hasty to strike hands in friendship, for young people are im- 
pulsive, and seldom stop to consider consequences. 

There may be one who entertains the same belief and opinions 
as yourself. You are inseparable. You read the same books, 
listen to the same preacher, and mix m the same society. You 
call each other friend, but let a change come — of fortune, po- 
sition or of opinion — and, immediately, this one, perhaps, may 
treat you with frigid indifference. 

" Oh, summer friendship, 
Whose flattering leaves, that shadow'd us in 
Our prosperity, with the least gust drop off 
In th' autumn of adversity." 
Young men make a mistake in supposing that in order. to 
make friends with young ladies they must needs flatter them. 

Right-minded girls dislike familiarity; and think as you ni'ay, 
the best way to gain their friendship, is to pay them proper re- 
spect, and it is a privilege and a high compliment to deserve it. 
It is difficult to lay down rules for young people's guidance iu 
forming friendship; temperaments and tastes are so different; 
but it will be safe to advise you to lookup — not to choose friends 
of a lower order of aim or thought, for they will be apt to drag 
you dozen to their level. 

There must be something of an equality in a^golden union of 
souls, in a moral and intellectual fellowship. 

Meum and tuum should be words utterly unknown to friend- 
ship, and this is why disinterested friendship is so extremely 
jare. 



no LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

"If thou wouldst get a friend," says an old writer, ** prove 
him first, and be not hasty to credit him, for some men are 
friends for their own occasion, and will not abide in the day of 
thy trouble." 

" True friends visit us in prosperity only when invited, but in 
adversity they come without invitation." 

The real friend accepts you, faults and all, and this is a grace, 
for you are apt to gather up much that is petty and rude in 
your daily contact with the world. 

Friends have need to look at us through rose-colore<l glassesi 

•' There is, indeed, no blessing of life that is in any way com- 
parable to the enjoyment of a discreet and virtuous friend," 
says Addison. 

" Ne certes can that friendship long endure, 
However gay and goodly be the' style, 
That doth ill cause or evil end enure, 
For virtue is the band that bindeth hearts most sure." 

It follows, then, that you should choose a friend because he 
is honorable, pure, manly, refined and truthful— because he 
will encoarage you in good aspirations, and will not fear to 
give candid counsel or stern reproof. 

The value of such a friend cannot be overestimated. 

You accept your friend not for what he knows or believes, 
but for what he is, do you not ? 

Then remember that you must give as well as receive. You 
must give your best behavior, your best thoughts, your best 
services. 

If you oblige, do it cheerfully, not grudgingly, with no mer- 
cenary expectation of an equivalent, and do not wait to be 
asked, although true friendship is not afraid to ask. 

You would not ask a stranger to risk his interests for your 
sake, would you ? 

Then never ask it of your friend, or be induced to run the 
like risk yourself, for it is a breacli of friendship to selfishly 
desire unreasonable service. 

If there should chance to be a misunderstanding between you, 
do not be led by gossip to listen to anything to his disadvantage, 
when perhaps a few minutes' conversation, face to face, might 
clear up the matter. This is a friend's right. 

Ohl what a heart-balsam are the loving, faithful ministrations 
of a friend. 

*' There are a thousand nameless ties, 

Which only such as feel them know, 
Of kindred thoughts, deep sympathies, 

And untold fancy spells, which throw 
O'er ardent minds and faithful hearts 

A chain whose charmed links so blend, 
That the light circlet but imparts 

Its force in these fond words—m^z/nend." 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. Ill 



LOVE. 

That our girls should look forward to love and marriage, is 
natural and honorable; but are they taught not to expect all 
roses and no thorns ? 

The truth is — they ought to know it— a maiden in loving and 
marrying, because of it, sacrifices much. 

Usually she gives up her independence, her pursuits, habits, 
preferences and friendship, and unless she loves worthily and 
deeply, her heart vvill ache with a dumb dull pain in doing it. 

But are there not compensations for all this surrender? asks 
one, alarmed. 

Of course — but that depends altogether upon the object of 
your love — the man for whom you are willing to *• leave all" — 
and this is a tremendous fact that not one young woman in a 
hundred seriously considers. 

" Love is a celestial harmony 

Of likely hearts, compos'd of star's consent, 
■Which join together in sweet sj^mpathy 
To work each other's joy and true content." 

If this be true, why is the passion of love seldom spoken of in 
the hoQie circle, except, indeed, by way of banter? 

Why do not mothers more frequently allude to it as a holy, 
sacred feeling, and discourage sickly sentimentalisui, or a fool- 
ish exaggeration called romance, instead of making it a means 
of barter or settlements ? 

The mother-love is iiitense, irrepressible, lavish, it is not self- 
forgetful. And yet how often when she asks for bread, she re- 
ceives a stone. Knowing all this, why allow her daughter to 
make mistakes? 

Falling suggests helplessness. Then ought our girls to " fall " 
into love? "Love at first sight" is expected in novels — but 
how many of you maidens possess the faculty of pronouncing 
upon the disposition and character of one whom you meet for 
the first time ? 

Of course there are esses of being " smitten all in a minute," 
which have led to happy results — but the majority, lead to 
repentance. 

Would you not select a silk dress for its wearing qualities — 
or bargain that your jevv'elry be genuine? 

It is surely common prudence to make yourself acquainted, as 
fully as possible, with the temper, tastes, mental and moral ten- 
dencies of the man who is to become to you for the remainder 
of your lives — ^what? 

Everything! 

In spite of yourselves, your future good or evil, and that of 
your children, depends mainly upon him. 

All other marriages except those based upon esteem, are set 
upon a hazard. What can they be but a lottery ? 

How prosaic! you say. Must we give up delightful senti- 
ment, and weigh and balance, and put on spectacles before our 
time ? 



113 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

'•' All true love," says an old poet, " is grounded on esteem *' 
— and this esteem is the bond between *' likely hearts." "If 
love is a mere feeling of admiration, it soon loses its power." 
"Love that hath nothing but beauty to keep it in good health 
is short-lived, and apt to have ague-fits." 

So if your love is to be called suddenly into life by an elo- 
quent glance, let there be worth behind it. 

In view of these facts, you can readily see that every sweet 
maiden — the prettiest of all included — has great need to dis- 
criminate between the passing fancy and the real passion, and 
the counterfeit also which is brought about by a natural desire 
of loving propinquity and the coquetries of youth. 

You must not allow these to reign supreme, but try at least 
to act with the same reason and judgment that you would in 
any important matter— and this is not impossible, whatever 
poets or romancers may say to the contrary. 

We are asked to believe—on the authority of an old bachelor 
too — that " Love is but an episode in a man's life." 

Have you ever imagined, my young friend, what sort of a 
middle-aged woman your best beloved — your intended wife — 
will probably be? 

Possibly not; but what she will be to you mainly depends 
upon yourself. 

Is love only an " episode" ? 

Hear the verdict of a married man. " To love a good woman 
is in itself a fine education — to marry her, and work for her, is 
in itself a source of the truest happiness. If it be unwise to 
choose a friend who falls below your own standard, much more 
unwise is it to choose a wife who cannot be a companion of the 
fullest equality — who cannot share your thoughts, your aspira- 
tions, and your hopes." 

Yes, one half should have no secrets, no pursuits, no friends 
unknown to the other half. 

A pure woman, too, will be a monitor — to check you lovingly 
and wisely when you are liable to err, and to encourage your 
struggles upward and onward toward the light. 

She will love you in spite of your faults; asking only in return 
respect, appreciation, and just a little tenderness. 

It is marvelous how the love of women will drape in royal 
robes the most unkindly of creatures; how it persists in seeing in 
the idol to which it has once given its allegiance a greatness and 
a goodness, an excellence of motive and conduct which the world 
is unable to discover; how it finds a reason for a weakness, and 
an excuse for a fault. 

It has been said that no man is a hero to his valet; certain it is 
that if he appear not as one to his wife, the failure must be of 
his own making. 

Is it not encouraging, then, that wives look so perseveringly 
through rose-colored glasses ? 

Tennyson sings of wedded love in strains to suit the mo8|#o- 
mantic— and it is the husband this time who sings: fr,, 

" Look through mine eyes with thine, true wife, 
JRound iny true heart thine arms entwinei 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 113 

My other dearer life in life, 
Look through my very soul with thine 1" 

The poets of all time, indeed, have written voluminously of 
Love. Shakespeare seems to have been an expert, ringing its 
peculiar changes skillfully. Was he inspired by Anne Hatha- 
way ? 

We wish that we had space to glance at the charming recitals 
of happy love in married life, scattered all through our litera- 
ture, many of them possessing all the sweetness of an idyl. 

Reduced to plain prose — to matter of fact — what do we find ? 

" There is a time for the husband to lead, and the wife to fol- 
low — a time for the husband to follow gladly while the wife 
leads— and a time for the husband and wife to walk side by side, 
and hand in hand." 

And thankful are we, for your sakes, that these phases of 
love and duty are possible. 



THE HOME CIRCLE. 

Home, to be a home, is essentially patriarchal; not in the sense 
in which this term is used among tribal nations, but in the nec- 
essary reverence for, submission to, and sympathy with the 
head of the family. On him rests almost solely the responsi- 
bility of provision, and to him belongs the right of direction. 

It is difficult for those w^ho have not yet achieved this head- 
ship to realize the sense of responsibility which often oppresses 
the head of the family. 

Provision may be so easy to some of us that few clouds cross 
the sunshine of our lives, and we may smile at, or joke away, 
the little domestic troubles which greet us sometimes when we 
cross the home threshold. 

Few of us are so blessed. 

It is the far more common lot that the business events of the 
day have been more or less checkered, and the head quits the 
office or warehouse with the brain more or less perturbed, the 
heart oppressed, and both needing and longing for the sunshine 
and the joy of the home and the family circle. To be trans- 
ferred at such a time from the troubles and heavy cares of busi- 
ness to the petty but often irritating squabbles of domestic life, 
is a case to make angels weep, and almost enough to drive hu- 
manity mad. 

Let, therefore, but the cares and responsibilities of the head 
of the family be duly realized, and each member of the house- 
hold must feel toward hini the necessary sympath}-, to guard 
him from all needless obtrusion of little domestic difficulties. 

It may be — it unhappily is the case — that there are heads of 
families who are unworthy of reverence; or who are so tyran 
nical or oppressive in their rule, that submission is difficult; or 
who are so unsympathetic that it is not easy to feel sympathy 
with them. These are family misfortunes which, however 
aiuch they may be regretted, lie outside our purpose in thia 



lU LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

paper, and require a eonsideration beyond our limits. It is 
enough for our purpose here, that if there be not reverence for, 
submission to, and sympathy with the head of the family, there 
cannot be domestic harmony. 

The infinitely slight modifications of form which make up the 
distinctive external features of mankind are but types of the 
numberless variations of temperament and character. It is not 
possible that the family can be constitated without the intrusion 
of these varieties. Often they are marked, and sometimes so 
strong and antagonistic as to become a fertile source of do- 
mestic disquietude. Often home- loves are enough to smooth 
down the transient asperities arising from this cause; and some 
of the most charming instances of the overpowering influence 
of home- love occur, where differences of temperament and 
character would otherwise more or less seriously disturb the 
household. The well-known axiom in civil life, " that personal 
right ends where it encroaches on the right of others," applies 
with equal or greater force to the closer relations of the housO' 
hold. 

The enforcement of selfish claims is often submitted to by the 
more generous merribers of the household, for the sake of ex- 
ternal peace; whilst the more generous heart bleeds under the 
enforced wrong. Jealousy of petty privilege is incompatible 
witli domestic peace. The green-eyed monster glares upon all 
favors in which it does not share. Whatever the apparent sun- 
shine, there can be no real harmony in a household where jeal- 
ousy influences one or more of its members. 

For instance, a gentleman once offered a fortnight at the sea- 
sidi? to two of four children forming the family of a widowed 
friend; but the mother felt compelled to decline this generous 
offer, because she was afraid that if made to two only, the jeal- 
ousy of the others would be painfully excited. 

The instance is one that gravely illustrates the losses often 
entailed on families by this unhappy feeling. 

Jealousy, although a transient feeling, is a fertile soil for the 
growth of envy, which, once possessed, grasps us with more per- 
sistency, gives a deep gloom to the domestic life of the possessor, 
and often overshadows the whole household. 

Hatred and malice happily rarely intrude their destructive 
power upon domestic life; but the instinctive propensities which 
generate them must needs exist: and it is a powerful antidote to 
their development that the ordinary courtesies of our homes 
should be constantly and carefully regarded. 

If in the external world a due regard for social courtesies h 
essential to its enjoyable constitution, it is greatly more necessary 
that the varied members of a household should practice with 
scrupulous care the softening amenities of family life. 

How often have the jealousies and envyings of individual 
members been calmed down or banished by the sunshiny greetuig 
of its more joyous members! 

It is said: 

'* There is a skeleton in every house." This may be; but a 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. US 

skeleton may be locked up in a strong room and kept out of 
sight. 

With more truth, let us hope, there is an angel in every 
house. 

Reader, have you not one in yours? 

If you have not, then the chances of domestic disunion have 
indeed fallen hard upon you. If you have, assiduously culti- 
vate it. 

You have no conception of how the careful observation and 
tending of this divine element will rub off your own angularities, 
and tend to invest you with its own simplicity and beauty. 

Avoid, however, all undue familiarity. 

As much freedom as is essential to graceful intercourse must 
enter into our domestic life: but this freedom must at ail times 
be qualified by a subtile delicacy. 

The most joyous and generous are the most likely to be cul- 
pable on this point, and may by a little spontaneous careless- 
ness " tread on the toes" of their more reserved domestic com- 
panions. 

Nor may we forget that when we have inadvertently passed 
the boundary of domestic propriety, the truest politeness dic- 
tates a ready and graceful apology. 

The pride whicii forbids this is the product of selfishness, and 
is itself often a disturbing element of domestic harmony. 

Mutual confidence, oneness, and openness are among the con- 
stituents of a harmonious household. 

" Cross-purposes " are well known as a disturbing element; 
but do not cross-purposes come from the concealment and con- 
sequent misapprehension of purposes? 

Difference of purposes must needs arise, and the French pro- 
vide for this by giving largely to each mature member of the 
household liberty to live out the individual purpose without re- 
gard to the others. 

This, however, is wholly uncongenial to the English idea of 
the home, where the diverse purposes of the members must, 
somehow or other, be made to dovetail, or be arranged for their 
separate working out without interfering with the harmony of 
the whole. This is scarcely possible where there is concealment 
and consequent misapprehension. 

Let the life of every member of a family be transparent in all 
matteis that affect the others; let the wishes and purposes of 
each be freely talked over; and then a little arrangement by the 
bead or others, and the concession and conciliation which 
mutual regard will always generate, will suffice to bring all the 
purposes of the domestic group into harm.onious working. 

If the selfish pressure of a purpose of subordinate character 
produce a little antagonism, tiie judicial interference of the head 
must be accepted, and obedience should be granted without au- 
dible or felt disappointment. 

The mutual sympathy of a household should make the purpose 
of all a source of happiness to each. 

Much of the provider's troubles would often be lessened by a 
little free chat at home about difficulties and purposes. 



116 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

A mother's smaller vexations would often vanish under the 
sunshine of loving discussions with the offending or other mem- 
bers of the family. 

A brother's or a sister's love affair, which generally haf^ab- 
sorbing interest for the Individual concerned, is far too often a 
subject of painful concealment or of rude banter. 

The propriety of such a love should of course at the first be 
referred to parental judgments. 

This point settled, it should be known to every member of the 
family, be treated with delicacy and sympathetic gravity, or 
become a subject of pleasant conversation v^henever the chief 
agent so wishes or may need loving guidance in reference to it. 



SUNSHINE. 

There are some natures so happily constituted that they can 
find a good in everything. There is no calamity so great but 
they educe comfort of some kind or other from it; no sky so 
black, but they can discern a gleam of sunshine issuing through 
it, from one quarter or another; and if the sun is not to be seen 
at all, they at least comfort themselves with the assurance that 
it is there, though now veiled from them. These happy beings 
are to be envied. Sunshine is ever about their hearts; life is to 
them strevp-n with flowers; existence with them is a constant sum- 
mer. Their mind gilds with its own hues all things that it looks 
upon. They draw comfort from sorrow; good out of evil; like 
the bee, they gather honey even from poison-flowers. 

Let it not for a moment be imagined that natures such as 
those we speak of are necessarily weak, giddy, and unreflective. 
The very largest and most comprehensive natures are generally 
also the most cheerful, the most loving, the most hopeful, the 
most trustful. It is the wise man, the being of large vision, 
who is the quickest to discern the moral sunshine streaming 
through the thickest clouds. In present evil, he sees prospective 
good; in pain, he recognizes the effort of nature to restore 
health; in trials he discerns the best school of courage and 
strength; even in deepest sorrow be gathers comfort; and in 
the sternest disappointments and sufferings, gains the truest 
practical wisdom. " There's wit there, ye'll get there, ye'll find 
nae other where." His heart is strong to sympathy with uni- 
versal nature, and even in her blackest moods, does he find a 
sense and meaning. When he has burdens to bear, he bears 
them manfully and joyfully, not repining nor fretting and wast- 
ing his energies in useless lamentation, but struggling onward 
manfully, gathering up such flowers as are strewn along his 
path. Journeying steadily toward the sun, the shadow of his 
burden is thrown behind him. 

There are few, indeed, who might not enjoy far more than 
they do the pleasures of rational existence. Happiness is cer- 
tainly the end of our being; pain and misery are only incidental 
to it, and but too often are the result of the violence which maa 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 117 

does to his own nature. And do not [pleasures of the highest 
order — of home, of affection, of friendly intercourse — lie about 
us on every side? Alas! that so many of us should not use our 
opportunities aright, but positively abuse them. 

Let us, then, look at the bright, at the happy side of things; 
and we shall thus have delight in struggling onward ourselves, 
and in helping others to do likewise. Encourage the habit of 
being happy, for habit assuredly it is. Thus vvill adversity be 
made more hopeful, and prosperity more joyous. Let not the 
mind give way to gloomy thoughts, but be cheerful. Scarcely 
is there a subject that does not afford room for agreeable medi- 
tation There is no human being so humble as not to be an ob- 
ject of human interest. There is no object in nature so mean 
as not to afford matter for instructive thought; and he who can- 
not extract benefit from such contemplations is certainly not in 
^any respect to be envied. Wordsworth says: 

" Tie who feels contempt 
For any living thing, hath faculties 
Which he has never used." 

There is pleasure to be gathered from things in themselves 
apparently the most trivial. It is the sunshine of the heart that 
gives brightness, beauty, and meaning to them; it falls upon 
coldness, and warms it; upon suffering, and comforts it; upon 
ignoronce, and enlightens it; upon sorrow, and cheers it. With- 
out it, flowers bloom in vain, and all creation is but one dreary, 
lifeless, soulless blank. 

Jeremy Bentham says, "Look out for the brightest side of 
things; let all ideas be made to spring up in the realms of 
pleasure, as far as the will can act upon the production. A large 
part of existence is necessarily passed in inaction. By day (to 
take an instance from the thousands in constant recurrence), 
when in attendance on others, and the time is lost by being kept 
waiting; by night, when sleep is unwilling to close the eyelids 
— the economy of happiness recommends the occupations of 
pleasurable thought. In walking abroad, or in resting at home, 
the mind cannot be vacant; its thoughts may be useful, useless. 
or pernicious to happiness. Direct them aright; the habit of 
happy thought will spring up like any other habit." 

This is sound practical sense — moreover, excellent philosophy; 
and it affords valuable hints to those who would extract a 
rational enjoyment from existence. If suffering is to be borne 
— as it must— at least let us learn how it is best to be met, and 
how the struggling heart is to be comforted and supported in the 
midst of its trials. But let us not imitate those minds which, 
like flies, are ever settling upon sores. We must endeavor to 
know much, and to love much; for the more one knows and 
loves, the more one lives, feels, and enjoys. Cherish the habit 
of cheerfulness above all things; it will serve alike for pros- 
perity and adversity, and there v^ill always be, at least, a gleam 
of suusbine. ' , 



118 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 



COUNTRY LIFE AND RURAL BEAUTY. 

" To one who has been long in city pent, 
'Tis sweet to look upon the fair 
And open face of heaven." 

What a beautiful trait in the character of the English people 
is their hearty love of everything that savors and sounds of 
"country!'' 

It is a thoroughly healthy characteristic — deep-rooted and not 
to be eradicated by the longest and most engrossing occupations 
of a city or town life. 

Many a fainting heart is cheered by the hope that one day a 
success will crown the labors of years, and enable the industri- 
ous citizen to close his days amid the quiet of a green suburban 
retreat, or a country house, far off among fields, hedge-rows, 
and babbling brooks, with the fi.owers blowing, and skylarks 
singing at will, freely and joyously. 

This is the dream of youth, the hope of manhood, and the 
realization of age in the case of many. 

We do not wonder at the universality of this feeling among 
our countrymen and countrywomen. This old green country is 
worthy of all their admiration, love, and pride. 

It is almost a part of themselves, and associations connected 
with it are bound up with their being. 

Oir poets have sung of it, till it has become mixed up with 
their tenderest and strongest influences. 

History has made it venerable; its old castles, and abbeys, 
and churches — its battlefields— its old hails, and country houses, 
are thej' not identified in history with the march of this great 
people in civilization and freedom ? 

Then there are the birthplaces of its great men, the haunts of 
its poets, the stately piles dedicated to learning, the magnificent 
palaces of the nobles, the homes of the people, the huts of the 
poor, scattered all over this green land. 

There are the old forests, older than the Norman Conquest; 
and the old streams and mountains, older than all. 

Country I The very word has musicCin it; it brings up thoughts 
of the merry maypole, the freshness of the woods and fields, 
pansies and spring violets, sha<iy lanes, and rose-embowered 
lattices; the hum of bees, and the music of birds, the bleating 
of sheep and lowing of cattle at eventide, clear skies from which 
the sun shines down among green leaves, and upon grassland, 
mossy banks, and gurgling rills, while trout and minnow 

" Taste the luxury of glowing beams 
Tempered with coolness." 

Country, however, we cannot all have; we M-ho live in towns 
and cities — the great accumulated deposits of civilization— must 
ply away at our several tasks, some with the hammer, and 
others with the quill; shopmen at their counters; lawyers in 
their chambers; needlewomen in their attics; merchants in their 
pouutirig- houses; laborers at their daily work. But eveu here the 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 119 

love of country shows itself as strildngly as ever: the strong 
passion displays itself in a thousand forms. 

Go to Washington Market any morning in June, and you will 
there find the general love of flowers and green leaves display- 
ing itself in another form. The stalls are filled with endless 
loads of bouquets; the tables are; gayly set out with their tempc- 
ing array of calceolarias, geraniums, fuchsias, cactuses, roses 
and heliotrope, all nicely potted and mossed; and few there are 
who can resist the pleasure of having one or more of these in 
possession, and bearing them off in triumph. Many a longing 
look is cast upon these stalls by those too poor to buy. 

What vt^ould many a poor girl give to be the owner of one of 
those sweet plants, reminding them as they do, of country, and 
gardens, and sunshine, and the fresh beauty of nature? 

The love of flowers is beautiful in the young, beautiful in the 
aged. It bespeaks simplicity, purity, delicate taste, and an in- 
nate love of nature. 

And long may flowers bloom in the homes of our people — in 
their parlor windows, in their one-roomed cottages, in their 
attics, in their cellar dwellings even. We have hope for the 
hearts that love flowers, and the country of which they are 
born. 

See, perched in that ^vindow-sill, high above the rushing tide 
of city life, a lark in its narrow cage. Its eyes upturned, and 
its feet planted on the bit of green turf, which its owner 
brought from under a great oak tree in the forest, when on his 
last holiday ramble; it pours through its little throat a flood of 
melody and joy. Though confined, yet it sees the sun through 
its prison bars, looks up cheerfully and singsl And its captive 
owner in that narrow room behind — captive by the necessity of 
laboring for his daily bread — he, too, as he hears the glad 
melody, and as his eyes glance at the bit of green turf, and then 
at the blue sky above, feels joy and love *' shed abroad in his 
heart," and he labors on more hopefully, even though the carol 
of the lark has brought his childhood's home, the verdure of 
its fields, and the music of its words, gushing into his memory. 

Sing on then, bird of heaven! 

You see the love of country strongly display itself on all the 
holidays in the year. Then you find crowds of men, women, 
and children, pressing and panting out of the towns and cities 
in all directions, toward the fields and the fresh air. 

Steamers up and steamers down, stage coaches, ** busses," 
and cabs; and, above all, railway trains, are. on such days, 
packed tight with passengers, all bound for the " country," for 
a day on the hills, in the woods, or by the rivets — a long day of 
fresh breathing and pure delight. 

We might say a great deal more of the thousand other forms 
in which this love of country exhibits itself among us — of the 
cottage gardening, the taste for which is rapidly extending 
among the people — the small allotments so eagerly desired by 
workingmen; the amateur gentleman farming; of the love of 
rural sports, and games, and exercise; of our national litera- 
ture, which is so full of the free breath of the country, of our 



120 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 

poetry and song, which from Shakespeare to Wordsworth has 
always drawn its finest imagery from nature, and has never 
struck the chords of the national heart with more electric power 
than when appealing to country life and rural beauty. 



HAIL, LOVELY SPRING. 

•' So forth issued the seasons of the year. 

First, kisty Spring, all dight in leaves of flowers, 
That freshly budded and new blooms did bear, 

In which a thousand birds had built their bowers, 
That sweetly sang to call forth paramours; 

And in his hand a javelin he did bear, 
And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures) 

A gilt engraven morion he did wear; 

That as some did him love, so others did him fear," 

Spenser. 
How, in the words of the poet, do the misty and unmeaning 
images of things put on life and distinction, and come floating 
before us in living reality and personification. What a weary 
life would this be, if we were doomed to pass all our days amid 
high brick walls, and surrounded with the unceasing turmoil of 
commerce, and the hypocrisy of so-called civilization. Many a 
one in whose soul there still lingers a love for the green world of 
nature now begins to feel a new life throbbing within, as 
though the flowers of honie and childhood were really beginning 
to blossom around the heart. In a great city nature becomes a 
dumb, unmeaning fantasy. How wretched the monotony of 
brick walls, compared with the blue uplands, the green mead- 
ows, the clustering woods, and the light fleecy clouds, flinging 
their shadows upon the smiling landscape. How painful the 
eternal roar and dust of traffic in the narrow streets, compared 
with the sweet voices, the sunny glades, the green canopies, the 
solemn solitudes, and the life-inspiring breezes of nature! Better 
to be shaken and periled by the rushing storm, better to seek 
for music in the howling blast and fell swoop of the tempest, or 
*'in theboomof the ocean when coming home;" for even there the 
soul may drink in beauty — even there the heart m^y expand and 
grow; better all this than to be entombed alive in the breathing 
sepulcher of a great city. 

After the earth lias been rendered desolate by the unsparing 
hand of winter, the trees bereft of their green garments, the 
flowers buried, and the land parched up by crackling frosts, or 
buried beneath rolling floods, the gentle Spring comes with 
lightsome heart and sunny smile — like a loving spirit from the 
beauteous flower-land — bringing with her the golden sunshine 
to sanctify and replenish the great throbbing heart of nature. 
She comes with tearful eyes, and sunny feet, and golden tresses 
dripping from the crystal waters of her sheeny home, to fling 
gold, and green, and beauty, and perfume over all the budding 
and replenished earth. Birds leave their sunny skies afar to 
greet her with their gentle sc ^^; the breezes come from the 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE!. ISl 

warm south, toiling their long journey across the wide, wide 
sea, to gather up the odors which she scatters over hill and dale; 
the flowers wake up from their long winter sleep to gaze upon 
her smiles; and the broad, green earth exults for its verdurous 
beauty, and bounds with a lusty and impassioned joy. 

At her fairy touch, the emerald gates of the season fly open, 
and display a wide expanse of living and budding beauty — a 
landscape glittering like a broad ocean basking in yellow sun- 
shine, with swelling uplands gliding away into the distance like 
gently heaving waves; and beyond all lie the dark green lands 
of summer, where the primeval forests stretch away in their 
grandeur; and where breezes float over valley and stream ladea 
with the odors of wild thyme, and resonant with the dreamy 
music of the wild; and where the clouds are so dazzled by the 
blinding glare that they lose their way, and stand gazing iu 
bewilderment upon the broad, green earth which lies below. 

Old Winter knows that now his empire must fall. He sends 
forth a bleak north wind among the ghastly skeletons of last 
summer and over the new buds of spring; severs them with his 
keen shears, and hurls them prostrate on the waters of the 
marsh, as trophies of his master's potency. Still seeking to re- 
gain his despotism, but too weak to fling his icy chains again 
upon the earth, he crushes a few early flowers between his 
trembling fingers, and scatters them in ruins upon the budding 
ground; he breaths out a blight upon the forest, but the trees 
heed not his desolating spell, and only grow more vigorous and 
green with the new life with which they have been endowed. 
He gathers himself up with one last desperate effort; but the 
warm air oppresses him — the sweet odors annoy him, the light 
blinds and confuses him, he raves wildly, and clutches at the 
air; and with the last pulses of his heart, the hoary tyrant tot- 
ters in his footsteps, his long, withered fingers let fall his icy 
scepter, he sinks down upon the soft mossy carpet of the rejoic- 
ing earth; and, behold! his reign is at an end. The great heart 
of Nature beats high with regenerated hope, she pours forth 
her exultations over forest and field, over mountain and stream, 
moorland and lea, green covert and mossy clell. The air 
vibrates with the swelling choirs of unnumlared birds, and the 
great world goes dashing on more exulting than before, singing 
a new song of glory as it plows its way through the abysses 
of cold space. 

The sights and sounds of spring have a tenfold vigor and 
freshness. It is the season of new life, new hope, and new 
beauty. The leafing of the trees^, the unfolding of the flowers, 
which follow each other in quick succession, till the earth is 
mantled all over with lovely forms and glittering hues; the 
voices of the sweet birds singing their songs of love, all repay us 
for past frost and sleets, and lead us into the ardent embraces 
of the refulgent summer. 

Among the first spring flowers we find the daisy that " never 
dies," the dwarf furze, and the liitle chickweed, although these 
may better be regarded as the few connecting links betweea 
autumn and spring; for winter never kills them quite, and when 



122 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

the frosts break up they put forth a new show of blossoms, as 
though proud of their sufferings in struggling to keep the world 
from being quite without flowers. 



SELF-SUPPORTING WOMEN. 

Numerous beyond calculation are the employments which 
offer themselves to the inteltect and the ingenious industry of 
man, yet how few of these occupations belong to, or can be 
shared by, woman. How few are not regarded as derogatory to 
her, or beyond her sphere, or unsuited to her capacity and 
nature. 

We speak now of women in the middle grade of life. 

To the handmaidens of humble but honorable industry, a 
wider field is open. The}' share the most wearisome, the most 
laborious toil; but let us glance at the position of women in the 
middle sphere of life, whom fortune has not placed in inde- 
pendence. 

Supposing them to remain unmarried, and to be called upon 
to support themselves, what fields lie open to them ? Into what 
path of occupation can they enter without descending from 
their level, having the door of society shut against them— or, 
which is equally bad, remaining in an equivocal position, hang- 
ing between one class and another? 

The influence of woman on the mind of the country is still 
great, even in matters of government and justice. They exer- 
cise an unseen power, and with invisible reins guide the opinions 
of Qien. 

In medicine, too, the domestic circle calls for her exertions; 
and in religion her feelings and ideas dissejninate themselves 
widely and powerfully through society, yet none of these is her 
recognized occupation. 

Hers is only a moral influence, and to none of them can she 
retreat when forced to seek the means of self support. 

Science is studied by many women, and some few derive from 
it their independence — but only through the medium of litera- 
ture. Even then they appear, by common consent, to be re- 
garded as having put on an attribute of man. They seem to have 
lost the feminine character. 

In education she finds a suitable and useful medium through 
which her energies may become Serviceable to society and 
profitable to herself. The instruction of the young falls to her 
share, and many thousands of women reap rewards from this 
wide field. 

The schoolmistress, the private preceptress, and teachers in 
large seminaries, form a recognized class. But examine their 
true position. Do they possess the level which, from their 
birth and acquirements, and general qualities, belongs to them? 
The schoolmistress' position is, at the best, equivocal. 

The private teacher is courteously treated in society, but no 
more; and she whose occupation it is to take an inferior place 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. l^B 

at a school is scarce! v ever met in what is called " the geuteei 
walk of life." 

But is this right? The same woman, vvho is thus outlawed, 
as it were, had she married in her own sphere, might have con- 
tinued a "lady," and the world would have smiled upon her. 

But the simple fact of being compelled to resort to the em- 
ployment of her own energies for support, withdraws her from 
this position, and she henceforth bangs between two grades, 
occasionally entering into each, but never distinctly recognized 
as belongiug to either. 

The private teacher is, in many instances, a " lady," born 
amid polished society, belonging to an "eminently genteel 
family," educated well, possessing varied and rich acquire- 
ments, accustomed to the elegancies of life, and nursed in all 
the refined ideas and tastes belonging to her station. 

Uer father is not rich, but derives competence through his 
profession, whatever it may be. Ghe is one of many daughters, 
and finds herself single g j a time when the accidents of fortune 
render it imperati\ij tha"!; she should embrace some means of 
support for which her abilities and requirements ma}^ fit her. 

What has she to do ? The common resource is private tuition. 
She engages herself either to educate children in a family, or 
*'give lessons " in the languages, "affords instruction " in the 
arts, or *' imparts the accomplishmentc" which ladies study. 

In a private family her position is often the most unenviable. 
She is below the head of tho house, and above the servants. 
Oftentimes superior in every respect to those whose patronage 
supports her, she is frequently subjected to insulting slights 
from the family, and consequent impertinences from the 
menials. 

Her position is below the drawing-room and above the kitchen 
— in a kind of cold and comfortless middle sphere. She is 
sometimes admitted into *'a mixed party," but never into "a 
select circle," and her treatment is always marked with patron- 
izing condescension. 

Those who employ her act toward her with cold, and often 
equivocal civility; her pupils, ready in the education of pride 
and supercilious haughtiness, endeavor to make her feel her 
position; and the servants show her an obviously unwilling and 
incomplete respect. 

Accustomed to independent action, nursed in ideas of dignity 
and self-respect, the fetters of dependence gall her, and the 
treatment she experiences from society serves in no way to allay 
the irritation. 

Such, in all instances, is not the case; but when it is, the 
teacher has no help for it. The personal qualities of particular 
individuals sometimes — we would fain hope often— render the 
teacher's position less painful; but the other picture, unfortu- 
nately, too truly, in many instances, represents the condition of 
a woman who earns support by the tuition of children in a pri- 
vate family. 



124 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE, 



THOUGHTS ABOUT POETRY. 

The buoyancy of thought peculiar to young people finds ex- 
pression in their favorite poets— their aspirations are clothed in 
ideas — ready made — full of pathos and elegance — from the sim- 
ple and touching ballad, to the lofty and sublime strains of a 
Milton. 

For you know, girls, that there is a witchery in true poetry 
which well accords with your youth and romance. 

But as God's good gifts are so often perverted, you must be 
veg?y careful not to mistake the flow of a vivid imagination into 
verse for that union of deep feeling, profound thought, and 
power of observation, which we style poetry. 

It is best to cultivate a taste for that which Browning calls 
"poetry of the purest and most enduring kind." 

The following specimen of the workings of the imagination 
will illustrate our meaning: 

" 'Twas a starry night, and the sun was set, 
And the moon shed its balmy light, 
As I walked me forth by the Riga's side, 
With its waters clear and bright. 
The elfin rocks on the mossy bank, 
Stood motionless and still. 
And the flow of the prancing rivulet 
Dashed on like a quiet rill." 

** Balmy light! elfin rocks, and prancing rivuletl" How very 
imaginative! How surprising that those rocks stood '* motion- 
less and still"— and yet more wonderful that the "prancing 
rivulet " dashed on so quietly. Why not have it put* 

" Prancing, dashing, quiet rill, 
Not flowing down, but up a hill!" 

Indeed this reminds one of the famous verse: 

" He gasp'd, then gave a silent roar." 
The poet, too, did well to inform us that the " sun was set " 
before the " starry night" appeared! 

Poets claim to have many privileges, but there is a vast 
amount of infringement on the poetic license, and much that 
passes for poetry is but high-sounding decorated language. 
Sometimes, too, there is both feeling and imagination, but the 
defect consists in the unfitness of the thought. Is this in good 
taste ? 

'' Our sorrows, like a sea of grief, 
O'erwhelm us in their rapid tide; 
No shore of joy affords relief. 
Or floats us to its harbor-side." 

There are some words, too, which cannot be used iri poetry, 
because of their associations; thus, the word ear is allowable, 
while nose is not; and so of fingers, and toes. Judge for your- 
selves: 

' And then her fairy fingers softly press'd 
The polish'd keys, and sweetest music-sounds 
Entered my ear." 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 325 

*' And then her fairy toes most softly press'd 
The fading flower, and sweetest odors now 
Floated to my nose." 

Truly, there's but a step from the sublime to the ridiculousi 
Commonplace thoughts, too, seem absurd when spoken in 

decorated language. Is not the following a high-flown way of 

saying, "shut the door?'' 

" The wooden guardian of our privacy, 
Quick on its axle turn!" 

And here is an extreme poetic license; a ridiculous, fanciful 
rendering of the phrase, I hear the dogs bark. 

"My listening ear 
Caught the approaching, pitiful, clamorous sound 
Of quadrupeds canine." 

If improvement only were the object of poetry, prose migh _ 
well be substituted; but the ultimate end of poetry is to give 
pleasure. 

The true poet describes objects or scenes, just as the skillful 
painter imitates them: and this idea may serve as a guide to 
you, girls, in the cultivation of a taste for the true melody of 
poetry. 

Mere sound, however, is not worth much, if the sense is ob- 
scure, or the language inelegant; for one of the most important 
elements of poetrj? is beauty of language in expressing beauty 
of thought, in soaring to those heights to which you sometimes 
aspire, and which every -day language seems inadequate to ex- 
press? you find glowing thought clotlied in elegant diction and 
appropriate metaphor, which pleases and delights. 

If poetry is the language of passion, the language of rant and 
passion is not poetry— not at all — for the language of one in a 
furious passion, is anything but poetical — a scold, then, would 
be a bad poetess. 

That which is tolerable in prose, makes intolerable poetry — 
here is an illustration: 

" I'll sit down here by this old rotten tree, 
Which is, I see, all wrapped around with vines; 
And by the side of this deep puddle, too, 
Beneath the shade, I now will rest my bones. 
Nobody here will come, rae to disturb, 
Or see or hear me. Neither shall I hear i 

The noise of anything, except it be 
Of water running over the small stones 
In bottom of its stream, and busy bees 
Making their honey in a hollow tree." 

Here, you perceive, that good thoughts if not expressed in 
elegant language do not constitute good poetry. To show what 
an improvement a mere change of language can produce, as 
well us to help you form a more correct idea of true poetry, we 
quote from Coleridge: 

Here will I seat myself, beside this old 

Hollow and weedy oak, which ivy-twine 

Clothes as with net work; here will I couch my limbs, 

Close by this river, in this silent shade, 



.126 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

As safe and sacred from the step of man 
As an invisible world — unheard, unseen, 
Ana listening only to the pebbly brook 
That murmurs with a dead, yet tinkling sound; 
Or to the bees, that in the neighboring trunk 
Make honey-hoards," 

These thoughts about poetry are merely suggestive; you will 
readily perceive that a just aod cultured appreciation of it will 
do mucli toward refining your ideas and fastes. 

And, girl«, why do you riot cultivate the art of reading aloud? 
For it is an art and an accomplishment to be able to read poetry 
with propriety, force and elegance. To read it impressively, 
the inflections and modulations of the voice should be well 
managed, and the sense fully understood; and then there should 
be a measured, harmonious flow in reading, avoiding monotony, 
sing-song, or a bombastic style of delivery. Gesture is not nec- 
essary in parlor reading, and to saw the air, stab with the fin- 
ger, or beat the breast, is considered bad taste. 

Reading poetry aloud gives enjoyment, encourages self-pos- 
session, refines deep feelings, develops the mind, and educates 
the manners. 

Girls, try it in the home-circle during the long winter even- 
ings. 



THE SINGLE MARRIED, AND THE MARRIED HAPPY. 

Happiness is the end and aim of life. It is a natural feeling 
pervading each mortal breast. All mankind are engaged in the 
pursuit of it, and by divers means and ways endeavoring to 
peek and to find it. There are different fields in which happi- 
ness may be attained — but all point to domestic life as the goal 
of all earthly happiness; and this state of felicity is the married 
state. 

To establish and maintain that the marriage life is happier 
than the single, it is only necessary to open the pages of sacred 
history, and therein we shall find that marriage is decreed for 
the comfort, the benefit and the happiness of the Jmman race. 

"It is not good that man shall live alone," we are told, and 
those words find an echo in the breast of evQYj man that is not 
blinded by ignorance and prejudice. It is not good that man 
should live alone in this vast world v/ithout some gentler, love- 
lier, purer being to soften the asperities of life, to participate in 
his joys, and to sympathize in liis sorron'S. 

That the marriage state is happier than the single, is attested 
by the almost universality of matrimony. Mankind would not 
be so universally led into this state as they are if they did not 
think and know that a greater degree of happiness was to be 
found therein than in a single state. 

A¥hy is it that the young man so willingly gives u]) his gay 
associates, his youthful pleasures and dissipating enjoyments, 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 127 

and with joyous feelings and buoyant hopes enters into matri- 
mony ? 

Simply and solely because he is convinced that a greater de- 
gree of happiness is to be attained therein, than in imaginary 
*' single bliss." 

It is not so much the desire of gaining wealth, or ascending 
the ladder of fame, that animates the breast of youth, as it is 
the desire of winning some fair one upon whom his heart's af- 
fections center, and thus crown his future happiness in life. 
This hope is present with him amid the turmoils and struggles 
for success, and is mingled in all his plans and designs. 

The married man, after the toils and cares of the day, returns 
to a cheerful home, and is gladdened by all the comforts and 
delights of domestic life. He is met by joyous children, who, 
with gleeful voices, welcome home their sire — chasing away all 
harassing thoughts, and is soothed by an affectionate wife. 
Amidst the felicity of such a scene all the trials of life are 
sweetened and made smooth; and he goes forth again to battle 
with an energy and a will to perform the'great duty of life. How 
different with the forlorn single man! He, after a day of busi- 
ness perplexities and anxieties, returns to an abode of gloom and 
cheerlessness; no welcome greeting, no tread of fairy- like feet 
are heard pattering in his deserted and silent rooms; no sound 
of musical voices. He eats his dinner or sips his tea in silence, 
and sits by a fireside that has never been gladdened by the joys 
of doQiestic life, pondering over the gains and losses of the day 
until his brain becomes racked, with none to comfort him; and. 
under the influence of disappointment his energies become par- 
alyzed. 

There are certainly couples who are greatly too fond of ex- 
travagance and display, but that is no argument against the 
marriage state. 

These, happily, are not so numerous — far from it, indeed — as 
the homes where husband and wife combine to live within their 
means. No,thing is more pleasing than to enter the neat little 
tenement of the young people, who, within perhaps two or three 
years, without any resources but their own knowledge or in- 
dustry, have joined heart and hand, and engaged to share to- 
gether all the responsibilities, duties, interest, trial?, and pleas- 
ures of life. 

The industrious wife is cheerfully employing her own hands 
in domestic duties, putting her house in order, or mending her 
husband's clothes, or preparing the dinner; whilst perhaps the 
little darling sits prattling on the floor, or lies sleeping in its 
cot, and everything seems preparing to welcome the happiest 
of husbands and the best of fathers, when he shall come home 
i'rom his toils to enjoy the sweets of his little paradise. 

This is the true domestic pleasure. Health, contentment, 
love, abundance, and bright prospects are all here. But it has 
become a prevalent sentiment that a man nmst acquire his fort- 
une before he marries — that the wife must have no sympathy 
nor share with him in the pursuit of it — in which most of the 
pleasure truly consists— and the young married people nmst set 



138 LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 

out with as large and expensive an establishment as is becoming 
those who have been wedded for twenty years. 

This is an unfortunate idea, and fills the w^orld with bachelors 
who would marry if they could, but who cannot afford it. 

Casting such fears to the winds, let the single get married, 
and may the married be always happy. 



*'WAIT A BIT." 

"Wait a bit " is a good rale to go by when you have received 
an insulting letter, which you are inclined to answer instantly, 
and under the impulse of a good red-hot fit of anger. 

If you think it will help to relieve your mind you may write 
out your reply, but it may not be well to send it off by the next 
post. Let it remain in your desk for a day or two; then take it 
up; and if upon due reflection it appears to be the wisest thing 
to do, you can send it off. 

But very likely by this time you may be satisfied that nothing 
will be lost by taking a somewhat quieter tone, and so your 
original draught will find its way into the fire. 

It is a good plan for a man, when he is very wrathy, before 
he takes any action, to sleep over his grievance, and then see 
how it looks in the clear, cool light of the morning. 

Once in awhile we find ourselves in a " bad fix," and how to 
extricate ourselves we do not know. The waters are rising, and 
if we do not get over the stream soon, it may be impossible for 
us to cross at all. 

Have you never observed how often time settles things for us, 
which we could hardly have managed for ourselves? If you 
only wait long enough the stream which is now rising will fall 
off again. 

Do you not remember how worried you were a year ago about 
some blunder that you had made, or eome evil that seemed to 
threaten you, or something that was said about you; what do 
you care for it now ? A year hence you will care just as little 
about the matter that disturbs you to-day and kept you awake 
last night. 

Perhaps your attention is caught by some brilliant speculation, 
and if you are ready to take the venture, you may make your 
fortune in a day. 

*' Wait a bit " till you have had time to consider it, for you 
may come to ruin in a day. The whole thing may have a very 
plausible look, the maps and pictures may be very attractive, 
and the reports of experts highly satisfactory: but you had 
better wait and find out how much those beautiful maps and 
pictures signify, and what the testimony of the experts is 
really worth. 

There are ten men who come to grief by jumping too soon, 
where there is one who suffers from a reasonable delay. 

In everv doubtful matter we ought to move slowly and cau- 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 129 

liousJy. Business engagements are formed in. a hurry and re- 
pented of at leisure. 

Matrimonial engagements are entered into the same way, for 
which there is no place for repentance. In many cases the 
temptation to act at once, and just as the feelings dictate, is al- 
most irresistible. 

We fling back the conteiyiptuous word, and in a moment of 
passion strike a blow at the heart of those whom we best love, 
which an hour later we would give worlds to recall. 

it is a great accomplishment when we have learned the art 
of holding our tongue where silence is the truest wisdom, and 
of doing nothing where inaction is the safest course. 

The word procrastination has a bad taint, although it means 
nothing but " the putting off until to-morrow," which is some- 
times the wisest thing we can do. 

But not always; there are cases in which it is bad to let 
things !' wait a bit." The sooner they are disposed of the better. 
If you have a disagreeable and inevitable duty to perform, it is 
well to get it over as soon as possible. 

It will grow more and more formidable the longer it is defer- 
red. As you brood over it day by day, and allow it to take 
possession of your night- visions, the molehill will grow into a 
mountain, and the gnat into a camel. If you have got to take 
the cold plunge, the longer yoa stand shivering on the brink the 
more unnerved you will become. 

The habit of "putting things off " is one that grows upon a 
man imperceptibly and rapidly. 

Some persons never do anything in the morning which it may 
be possible for them to do toward night, or anything to-day 
which can be done on the morrow. 

If they have a bill to meet, they always wait till the last mo- 
ment of grace. If they have letters to answer, they let them 
lie over until most of them are outlawed. If there is a leak in 
the roof, they defer repairs until the house is half ruined. 

No one can correctly estimate the harm that mav be done by 
just letting things " wait a bit." Many a man puts off making 
his will because " he can do it at any time," until it is too late, 
and then his property all goes where he was most anxious it 
should not e:o. A lucrative place is offered to a young fellow, 
he lets the application " wait a bit," and then finds that another 
has stepped into his shoes. The farmer lets his crop " wait a 
bit," and by the time he is ready to take it to market the crop is 
spoiled. The mechanic lets his work " wait a bit" until the'de- 
mand for work has ceased, and he is left penniless. The fisher- 
man waits until the sky has cleared and the tide ebbs, and then 
the fish have vanished into parts unknown. The lawyer lets 
his case wait from term to term; but he is the exception, for 
the longer he can keep the matter pending the larger are his 
fees. 

And the writer of this essay delays his work till the printer 
is clamorous for copy, and he is no longer allowed to " wait a 
bit." 



IBO LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 



MORAL WHITEWASHING. 

A SPECIES of whitewashing has recently been applied to cer- 
tain notorous and repulsive historical charactera, with the in- 
tention of removing their blotches, and transforming them into 
very decent ?orts of people. It is a revision of the old record, 
by which those who have been regarded as very black are made 
to appear tolerably white. Scholars who are fond of big words 
call it the process of rehabilitation, or '* putting that which had 
become distorted back into its true form." 

Mr. Froude has undertaken the somewhat onerous task of 
whitewashing, among other doubtful characters, the royal and 
much- married Henry VIII., trying to show that he was not so 
very bad a husband, after all. We am asked to give him credit 
for an actual conscientious scruple in getting rid of some of his 
wives, and although he may have gone rather too far in bring- 
ing certain of them to the block, it cannot be doubted that they 
gave him considerable provocation* It was " the force of cir- 
cumstances" that led hira astray, and, taking everything into 
consideration, he was about as generous and kind-hearted as 
could be expected. And so " bluff old Harry " is rehabilitated.. 

Lord Macaulay has endeavored to rescue Machiavelli from the 
reproach which has long identified his name with treachery and 
deceit. We are told that he was a true lover of his country, 
and in all his machinations was seeking to advance the best 
interests of the nation; and the lying, and subtlety, and prevari- 
cation, and double-dealing which have made him so notorious, 
only reflected the general temper of the times, and are not to be 
condemned with the same rigor with which we very properly 
treat our public men in the present honest and straightforward 
age. 

It is not strange that every effort should be made to redeem 
the reputation of such an intellectual giant as Goethe; but there 
is no concealing the fact that he wrote some very silly and ver^^ 
wicked letters, and did about as much a? one man could do to 
corrupt the age in which he lived. 

Neither is it strange that the myriad admirers of Byron should 
put in the claim that such a genius ought not to be measured by 
the same rigorous standard that we apply to other men. It is 
true, they say, that he abused and deserted his wife, but that 
she could not have been congenial, and must have been rather 
trying at times; he drank a great deal of gin, but we are prob- 
ably indebted to that for some of his most impassioned poetry; 
he wrote very wicked verses, but he also wrote very many that 
are noble and sublime. Let us then, because of his transcend- 
ent genius, make every possible allowance for the evil that was 
in him. 

Coleridge is another mighty man of thought— poet, philos- 
opher, theologian — few have done more to stimulate the mind 
of the age than he; but his frailties were almost as conspicuous 
as his virtues. Would that they had never been revealed! No 
one needs to be more charitably judged than he; and, because 



LETTERS TO YOUNG PEOPLE. 131 

of his intellectual eminence, perhaps no one deserves to be more 
tenderly treated. In his case we do not object to a little ex- 
traordinary whitewashing. 

Edgar Pop has been assailed and defended, blackened and 
whitewashed, more assiduously than almost any. 

It is a pity that in many cases biographers have been so free 
and copious, in certain details which might as well have been 
omitted. It is one of the bitter penalties of greatness that the 
defects and shortcomings which pass unnoticed in common 
mortals must be thrust upon the public eye and exposed without 
reserve. 

Amongst the rest, an attempt has been made to whitewash 
the Roman emperor whose name has for ages been a synonym 
for all that is vile and cruel, and of whom Byron was the first 
to say a kindly word, and this after a very qualified fashion: 

" When Nero perished by the justest doom, 

Which ever the destroyer yet destroyed, 
Amidst the roar of liberated Rome, 

Of nations freed, and the world o'er joyed — 
Some hands unseen strewed flowers on his tomb; 

Perhaps the weakness of a heart not void 
Of feeling from some kindness done when power 
Had left the wretch an uncorrupted hour." 

It is true that Nero was fond of music, and some may think 
that this proves him to be not totally depraved; but he once 
killed a man because he could sing better than himself; and if 
the story is true that he amused himself with playing the fiddle 
while Rome was burning, this miscreant will certainly never be 
rehabilitated on the score of his musical attainments. 

But, after all, what profit Is there in dwelling so persistently 
on the lapses and frailties of genius ? Nothing should be said 
of them that is not true, but it is not necessary to tell all that 
is true. What man is there that livelh and sinneth not ? There 
is a flaw, great or small, in every marble statue. We need not 
search for it too diligently. There is no occasion to examine 
the marble with a microscope. It may be incumbent upon the 
faithful biographer to hint at the faults of bis hero, in order to 
keep us from blind and slavish worship; but it is not needful 
that we should linger over his imperfections, and it is a vile out- 
rage when we unduly magnify them. Let us have something 
left to reverence. It is better to err by excess of charity than by 
excess of criticism. 



[the end.] 




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„ Works by the Author of ''DORA THORNE." 

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44 — DoraThorne ...,. 20 

61— Madolin's Lover.... , 26 

70 — Thorns and Orange Blossoms IC 

130 — Romance of a Black Veil 10 

154— Beyond Pardon Sf 

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235 — Prince Charlie's Daughter Id 

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166— The Midshipman, Marmaduke Merry 20 

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215— Called Back, by Hugh Conway. 10 

$28— A Sinless Secret, by " Rita " 10 

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239— Love and Mirage 10 

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245— At War With Herself 10 

246— John Bull's Misfortunes 10 

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249— Love's Warfare, 10 

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252 — Moonshine and Maiguerites, and Monica, by the 

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'* Duchess" , IC 

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